In My Secret Life
by NeiLegni
Summary: After a drunken encounter Rachel and Quinn struggle with their conflicting feelings and desires until they happen upon the perfect plan: a secret, a deadline, and the promise and trust that makes the struggle worthwhile. This story takes the season 2 canon from 2x14 on and adds a Faberry twist.
1. Chapter 1

[A/N] I want to start off with a big thank you to you all for giving this story a read. I've been working on this for the past few months. As a fandom we all love to watch the episodes and imagine the Faberry we never get to see-this is how I can imagine a relationship between Rachel and Quinn evolving within the canon. Each episode from Blame it on the Alcohol on is worked in and the events of each episode will have their effects in this story. Nearly everything from the season 2 universe is as written on the show-but with Faberry as the center plot point. Fuinn and Finchel still come into play, but Faberry is the heart and soul of this piece.

Thank you for reading and I truly appreciate any feedback you could provide!

* * *

><p>Their story begins as an accident.<p>

They're all at Rachel's still drinking long after spin the bottle has ended. Then it's 7 minutes in Heaven. They all take turns giggling behind closed doors, and Kurt and Blaine make endless "coming out of the closet" jokes, that get funnier each time- thanks to the booze.

But then Santana hollers "Fabray and the Bearded Lady Berry!" as she spills half of her vodka cranberry down her front. Rachel's stomach flips—it could be the tequila shot she just threw back, or it could be that Brittany and Puck have already pulled her to her feet and Mercedes is ushering a hesitant Quinn into the closet and the door closes behind them.

"What an inappropriate and ridiculous pairing. I can't imagine why, out of all the guests present, our teammates would encourage Santana's insensitive suggestion that we lock ourselves and-"

"Look, could you please stop talking? This party sucked before I got locked in a closet with you and you opened your mouth an a novel fell out. So if you could just shut your mouth for the next six and a half minutes we can both say we left this horrible situation unharmed. Otherwise I make no promises.

This isn't how being alone with Quinn Fabray in a cramped, dark closet should be, but Rachel is a fool for expecting anything to go differently. There's a small part of her, a part that didn't vociferously refuse Santana's idea-that hoped this would happen from the outset of the hormone driven games of wish fulfillment. Was there even a chance that Quinn, in a moment of drunken abandon, would find herself drawn to her and behind the door of the linen closet (where Rachel's dads stored her baby blanket for Christ's sake) would press that perfect body of hers to Rachel's frilly, green "monstrosity" as Kurt called it, and lose herself in a shy, yet passionate kiss that would lead to a greater exploration of the Sapphic experience? Of course not, but Rachel can't help it-she clings to the .0001 percent chance and clings hard.

"You know, you are so pretty. People lose their minds trying to make themselves half as pretty as you are and you don't even have to try. I can see why Finn-"

"Stop it." Even in the dark Rachel can hear that Quinn is protesting through gritted teeth.

"No! No no no no no no," she slurs, "let me finish! I'm just saying if I were Finn and you were you and Finn was me and I had to choose between you guys I would pick you too."

"I guess you want me to thank you now or something."

"Well, that's the customary response to receiving a compliment."

"I don't know what you're trying to get at here, Rachel, or what you're trying to do but I swear if you keep this up you are really going to regret it. I don't know if you're trying to intimidate me or ruin my relationship with Finn or somehow make yourself seem like a bigger person by pretending to be nice to me before you inevitably stab me in the back, but whatever it is you need to cut it out."

Suddenly the closet feels too small and Quinn is entirely too close and Rachel is thankful for the darkness-it hides the color rising to her cheeks and the tears she feels pricking the corners of her eyes. Crying is not a rational or reasonable response to Quinn's diatribe. She's made harsher jokes and humiliated her in worse ways, but the alcohol is making each word Quinn spits out sting worse than usual.

"Fine, I'm sorry," she mutters. And she is-not sorry about what she said, she meant it all-but that she let herself say it at all.

Someone knocks on the door, maybe it's Mike, maybe it's Brittany, she doesn't know because when the door flies open she makes a beeline to the bar to pour herself another shot.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Quinn do the same.

By two in the morning the fourteen of them have cleaned out the Berry's liquor cabinet and Kurt, their designated driver, tells them it's time to pile into the van and go home. Brittany leads the way with Santana on her back and the house is quiet. A mess, but quiet.

But when Rachel makes her way back downstairs she sees Finn asleep on the couch.

"He's out," Quinn says dryly. "I tried to wake him up but all he did was snore-and I'm sure you know how hard it is to wake him up and it's not like I can drive or anything right now." She laughs a little, "I've never been drunk like this before. I'm so drunk that I want to have a sleepover at your house-I can't even believe how much we all drank. God!"

"Do you-do you want to stay here?" Quinn laughs even harder, even though she had made the same suggestion first. Rachel isn't sure how to take that laughter but it's contagious. She's doubled over with her hands on her knees wheezing with laughter at nothing. She realizes then that even after spending almost every day with Quinn after school in the choir room, she's only seen her laugh, truly laugh, a few times. Her teeth are so straight. So straight.

"I can't believe I'm going to say yes."

"Well, you're welcome to stay. I can get you a sleeping bag and you can stay down here with Finn if you want."

"Actually, can I sleep upstairs? Finn snores like lawnmower that has something stuck in its blades and I won't be able to sleep."

"Sure," she replies as casually as she can. Quinn needs her and that thought alone makes her heart beat faster. She wants to sleep in her room, rather than in the basement with her boyfriend and nothing turns Rachel Berry on more than being needed.

* * *

><p>Rachel leads her upstairs and they don't even get to the light switch before Quinn trips and Rachel tries to catch her and they topple over together. They start laughing and can't stop until Quinn's lips find their way to Rachel's and Rachel kisses back hard.<p>

They pull back at the same moment and meet each other's gaze-Quinn's eyes look hazy, maybe with desire, maybe with booze- before Rachel pulls her dress over her head and Quinn's shirt is flung to the corner of the room. Quinn rips Rachel's bra trying to get it off faster and pulls Rachel's earlobe into her mouth. She groans when Quinn's teeth bite the skin then travel down and latch onto her neck.

Within minutes they're naked with their fingers unceremoniously buried inside each other, rolling on the floor, each trying to gain leverage over the other, thrusting their bodies against each other's hands.

Rachel drags her tongue down Quinn's torso and jokes "don't worry-you still have abs" before delving down, diving deeper and gripping Quinn's thighs as she kisses her way closer to where she's dying to be. She squeals with surprise as Quinn digs her fingers in Rachel's hair and pulls her head, hard, between her legs and she moans, and god, Rachel has never been so wet in her life. She's throbbing while her tongue traces her folds. Quinn and she tastes so good. It's heady and earthy, but tart and Rachel can't get enough of the tang dancing on her tongue or the way Quinn's body is reacting to Rachel's finger insider her, pulling it in deeper and clenching it tighter.

Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the cover of darkness, but Quinn starts talking and doesn't stop.  
>"God Rachel yes, right there. Jesus, yes, please. Oh god I've wanted this for so long. How did you- have you done this bef-YES fuck yes! RIGHT THERE DON'T STOP OH GOD DON'T STOP RACHEL."<p>

The sound of her name on Quinn's lips as she comes gets Rachel so close to the edge. She rocks her body against Quinn's smooth thigh and comes almost instantly, throwing her head back and letting her moan bounce off the bedroom walls as the room spins around her.

She collapses on top of Quinn with her hair brushing against her arm and across Quinn's chest. Quinn brushes it back and places a kiss on Rachel's cheek before closing her eyes with her arms wrapped around Rachel's small body.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah Rachel?" Her voice sounds far away, as if she's already sleeping.

She wants to ask if this really just happened-she doesn't believe she just had sex with Quinn Fabray. And now she's laying stark naked on her carpet, holding Rachel in her arms and Rachel refuses to believe that this happened only hours after their excruciating tete-a-tete in the linen closet. But maybe she doesn't want an answer. Maybe she just wants to live a little longer in this hazy afterglow before things get complicated. She could pull a trademark Rachel Berry and ask Quinn question after question about her feelings and how this came to be and what percentage, if any, of this decision was impacted by their inebriated state and what percentage would be considered "other". Instead:

"Should we move to the bed?"

"Yeah," Quinn says sleepily. She strokes Rachel's back, which sends chills up her spine. Can she just kiss her? "That's probably a good idea ...because floors are hard and the bed-beds are for sleeping."

"Do you need anything? Water?" Another orgasm?

"Pyjamas?" She says it like a question, like she's afraid Rachel might say no and refuse her a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. "I'd just put my underwear and shirt back on, but I think those panties might be ruined and I think you ripped my shirt."  
>Rachel snickers and Quinn pulls Rachel's head down to meet her lips and, yes, it's real. She can feel Quinn's teeth on her lips and she can hear little murmurs playing in the back of her throat. Rachel lets her thumb stroke the spot behind Quinn's ear.<p>

"Rachel, Rachel Rachel Rachel..."

"I'm a total bitch," she slurs. She's still drunk-tipsy at least, so maybe they can keep pretending this will end well.

"No. You aren't," Rachel murmurs soothingly. She kisses Quinn's shoulder ands tastes the salty sweet of sweat.

"Yeah, I really am. I'm a huge bitch, especially to you. I was so mean to you in the closet and there wasn't even a reason. I'm just not a good person and I get mad too easily."

"Well, maybe you had a right to be. I don't remember exactly what I said or how I said it but I'm sure it was insensitive and-" the high is wearing off and reality starts to creep back into focus.

"No, you're great. I'm the asshole. Tell me I'm an asshole." She sounds too sincere, as if she really wants Rachel to somehow make her pay for her guilt and this is getting weird and uncomfortable. Rachel never imagined what it would be like after her imagined hook ups with Quinn, but she had assumed there would be cuddling and declarations of affection...not this.

"Quinn...let's just go to sleep."

Rachel tosses Quinn something to sleep in-she gives her a Wicked tee-shirt, her softest, and bright pink shorts and dresses herself in a tank top and flannel pants. Quinn holds out her arms, like she's a child waiting for her mother to pick her up, and Rachel pulls her to her feet. They're both a little unsteady but they manage to dress each other and crawl into Rachel's bed.

* * *

><p>Rachel doesn't sleep at all that night. She watches Quinn's chest rise and fall with her slow, steady breath, and feels her anxiety climbing. Her head start to ache as the sky outside her window pinkens. At seven Quinn is still lightly snoring next to her and Rachel is dying for a glass of water and an aspirin. She carefully climbs out of bed and pads down the hall and fills three glasses with water and opens the jar of pills. She shakes out two for herself, two for Finn, and two for Quinn. The thought of Finn still asleep on the couch, completely unaware of what has happened makes her queasy, but she tiptoes down the basement stairs just the same and leaves the water and pills on the table. She scrawls a note letting him know that Quinn is upstairs sleeping and makes her way back to her room.<p>

God her eyes sting and she wants to close them and drift off to sleep next to the beautiful girl in her bed but she can't stop shaking and every time she lets her lids droop she sees simultaneously Quinn's naked body spread beneath her and the look of confusion and fury on Finn's face when he inevitably discovers how this triangle managed to get even more complicated.

She must have dozed off, at least for a little while, because she opens her eyes to sunlight streaming into the room and a very naked Quinn Fabray scouting for her clothes.

"You're still here," Rachel whispers huskily. The truth is that she's delighted. Her assumption was that Quinn would sneak out as soon as she woke up and be out the door with so much as a "see you on Monday."

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm just looking for my stuff before I head out."

"It's okay. I'm a notoriously light sleeper." At that she hears Quinn let out a low, heavy breath. "Do you want anything? I could make breakfast or coffee or-"

"Rachel, my head is killing me. Just let me find my clothes and I'll get out of your hair, okay?"

"You don't have to rush, my dads won't be back until the end of the week and I don't mind the company." Once the words start coming she can't seem to hold any back. "I can get you a towel if you'd like to shower and if you need to borrow anything let me know and-"

"Please Rachel, just don't, okay?" Rachel sits up on the bed and she feels suddenly naked in her thin tank top. She wraps her arms around her bent legs and rests her head on her knees. "l'm going to leave and we never have to talk about this, or anything else, ever. We can just forget this ever happened."

Something starts boiling inside of Rachel and claws its way up her throat hot and fast and she worries she might vomit but when she opens her mouth the only thing that comes out is a sharp, loud "No."

"Excuse me?" Quinn counters with a raised eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"I said no. This isn't how this is going to work. We don't spend half the night indulging in latent carnal desires and then act like nothing's different."

"Is that what you think?" Her tone is so nasty that Rachel can barely string together a memory of the vulnerability she had heard fall from Quinn's lips that night. "Because I don't think that's up to you, Rachel, and if you're smart you'll keep your mouth closed and not leak a word of this to a soul-which I know with a mouth that size will be a challenge."

Rachel wants to point out that Quinn had no problem with the size of her mouth last night, but the moment isn't right. A joke would make things worse.

"But I have questions and I need answers! How can I just go about my life like this didn't happen? Damn it, Quinn, that was my first time and you're just going to rip it away?"

"Rachel, it doesn't count. Don't be so dramatic. We were drunk and made a mistake. Just forget it," Quinn heads for Rachel's bedroom door, and Rachel makes every effort to block the exit.

"I'm not letting you just walk out of here before we talk about this!"

"Oh yeah? Watch me." With that Quinn pushes past her and hurries down the stairs, no doubt to collect her boyfriend and speed away back to her easy relationship and forget about the moments that Rachel is sure will stay with her forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel spends the rest of her day nursing a cup of tea and a hangover while flipping through channels. She can't imagine facing the mess of solo cups and discarded undergarments she's sure litter the basement floor, let alone managing the stairs. Just walking to and from the bathroom makes her stomach churn and she swears she can feel her brain pounding against her eyes.

Then she remembers last night and Quinn and everything hurts so much more.

She can still smell Quinn on her fingers no matter how hard she scrubs her hands. The feeling of Quinn's fingertips tracing lazy circles on her back and how it felt to fold those long limbs into her arms rush back every time Rachel catches sight of the hickies coloring her neck. Damn it, how is she going to explain those?

She tries to piece together other memories of her party. She's pretty sure she and Blaine kissed at some point and that she didn't hate it-damn it, she would have to call Kurt later and figure that mess out. She remembers vaguely giving a performance of some overwrought 80's number and...and everything else is a blur of drinking and tears and darkness and fireworks and then...nothing. Hurt.

During a Will and Grace rerun she drifts off and dreams that Quinn is still curled up in her bed, and when she wakes up she kisses Rachel awake and they make love on what then becomes an ice rink during the Olympics. They win gold medals and they give lectures about how important it is to keep the glaciers frozen so the winter Olympics can continue and...

And then she wakes up when her cell phone beeps and pulses on the table. She flips it open and curses herself for not silencing the offensively high-pitched bedazzled piece of...

Missed Call: Quinn Fabray

Her breath catches in her throat. What else could Quinn possibly have to say after this morning? Is she calling to criticize her sexual technique?

Could she be calling to offer an apology?

She presses 1 for voicemail and finds that Quinn left a message-just a few seconds of silence before the line cuts dead.

On Monday she can't control the way her eyes wander to try desperately to connect with Quinn's. Maybe she'll give a small smile, a wave, some sort of acknowledgement that something passed between them and that things aren't as they were last week. But Quinn doesn't look her way once. She sits as far away from Rachel as she can in the choir room, avoids the rest of the club at lunch, even though her seat at the head of the Cheerios table has long since been usurped, and appears glued to Finn's right side.

Rachel can forgive the awkward avoidance and she understands the desire for separation, but the way Quinn is parading Finn in front of her is too much. It's as if Quinn is trying to silently indicate that Rachel doesn't have a prayer for any explanation. She has to feel something. If she hadn't she wouldn't have called Rachel the next day and she wouldn't look nearly as terrified whenever Rachel passed her in the hallway. It's unbearable, Rachel thinks, to watch this person who holds the answers to every one of her questions move through her world but hold herself just out of reach.

Maybe it's just a question of reaching further.

After they rehearse Tik Tok for the eleventh time she follows Quinn to the water fountain.

"Hey," she says timidly, her voice lilting upward at the end as if asking permission to engage.

"Can I help you?" Quinn's face is blank, beautiful but expressionless. This is the first time Rachel has had the chance to truly see Quinn since that night and she's surprised by what she sees. Quinn looks chalky, tired, and sad. Her lower lip is drawn between her teeth and Rachel suddenly feels so small.

"I was just wondering if you-if you're all right."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She dismisses Rachel with an eye roll and saunters back to the auditorium.

They don't talk again for the rest of the week and Rachel trains her eyes to look anywhere but at the long blonde hair on the other side of the choir room.

She's watching her dads' video slideshow from their cruise when she feels the unmistakable buzz of her cell phone in her pocket.

1 new text: Quinn Fabray

_Hey_.

Hey? That's it? Why even bother sending a message like that-it doesn't say anything. Rachel contemplates a number of replies but settles on _Hi_.

She gets an almost immediate reply.

_How are you?_

Rachel taps out a response, her first attempt _used, humiliated, served alongside a dish of steaming hot guilt_ gets erased for a less confrontational_ Fine. How are you?_

Even as she taps the keys she can feel the excitement building inside. Quinn is texting her-and so quickly, which means she obviously wants to have a conversation which then leads to the obvious conclusion that last Saturday really meant something after all. But the blasé messages she's receiving is throwing a wrench in that particular train of thought.

Her phone pulses again in her hands and Daddy looks over at her while she hunches over her phone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd find out footage of the Rosie and Crew Drag Brigade so heinously boring," he teases. Rachel doesn't look up from the message on her screen. "Who are you talking to, Bug?"

"No one," she says. "I just realizes there's a book I really need from the library before it closes. It's for a report-for school. I'll be back soon."

"Rach, we haven't seen you in a week! The book can wait. Come sit down."

"Dad, this is very, very important. The fate of my 4.0 grade point average depends on my retrieval of this book tonight!"

Dad sighs, " Okay, okay. Drive safely and come home soon."

"I will," she promises as she runs up the stairs for her sweater. she steals one more look at Quinn's last message:

_Maybe we should talk about last weekend. Meet me at the Lima Bean in 15 minutes._

It's not a question-it's a demand, and Rachel follows it dutifully.


	3. Chapter 3

Her hands shake on the steering wheel the entire drive to the coffee shop. She feels a pang of guilt when she passes the library, with its windows dark and its doors most certainly locked. She vows to make it up to her dads later.

Her stomach is churning and her mouth is dry when she spots Quinn's red Lexus in the parking lot. She's fairly certain that the Fabrays are the only family in Lima with such expensive cars, which makes it easy to identify. She remembers watching Quinn, Brittany and Santana-back when they still ruled the halls in their Cheerios uniforms- speed in and out of the parking lot with the top down in the bright red car. She can still see Quinn's white smile and her hair blowing behind her. Rachel would have given anything to sit beside her in the passenger seat laughing and squinting in the sun.

Then Rachel is hit with the sudden reality that if Quinn's car is in the Lima Bean lot, she's already inside waiting for her. A few deep breaths in the car and she's ready...she hopes.

Rachel doesn't see her at first, but as her eyes comb the cafe she finds her at a table in the back with a hat pulled low over her forehead. There are two steaming cups, one in Quinn's hand, the other in front of the chair across the table-obviously the seat intended for Rachel.

"I don't know how you take your coffee, so I got you tea." Her voice is low and she won't meet Rachel's gaze.

"Thank you," she replies. There's a packet of sugar next to the cup and she pours it into the tea and stirs the grains as they dissolve. She wishes her worries would do the same.

"So Quinn, you wanted to discuss our relations last Saturday night and I for one could not be more pleased that you've changed your mind and maybe we can make some positive-"

She can't help it-her anxiety is rising and her pulse starts to throb in her ears and her foot bounces on the floor while the words keep coming.

Quinn holds up her hand, "look, obviously this was a mistake. I thought that maybe, for one second, you could just sit and listen. But if you're not interested in listening then I'm not interested in talking and we can both just go home, " she rises and shoves her arms into her coat.

"Wait!" Color rises to Rachel's cheeks hot and fast. It's going to be a delicate dance and she's willing to step lightly and quietly if it means Quinn will stay. "Please don't leave. You're right and I'm just...I'm nervous about, you know, this."

"Well, you're not the only one." Quinn lifts her cup to her lips and winces as the hot liquid hits her tongue. "I don't know where to start but, God Rachel, I can't explain what happened and I can't explain why I cant get it out of my head but this wasn't supposed to happen. Not with you...not after last time."

"What do you mean last time? You've done this before? With a girl?"

Quinn take a deep, steadying breath, "I mean cheating, Rachel."

"Oh," she nods, "right."

"I haven't told Finn," she adds, "and I'm not going to. We're not dating...technically... I don't know what's going on with him and me and I don't need things to be more difficult and-" another breath, "and for some reason, even though it could ruin you, I don't want to hurt you."

And Rachel can't stop herself before she blurts out "Why?"

But Quinn doesn't jump to leave, or slap Rachel across the table like she expects. Instead Quinn lowers her gaze to the table and bites her lip.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked-"

"I'm not gay, Rachel," she interrupts. The phrase is unsteady and Rachel can't help but wonder if the shakiness springs from fear or uncertainty. She isn't going to question the admission, but she's dying to quote Macbeth, "the lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Quinn meets Rachel's eyes, "I'm not gay."

"Then why did you fuck me, Quinn?" She struggles with the word—it feels so crude, so out of character—but she hopes the shocking choice will get some kind of reaction.

Quinn sputters as she chokes on her drink. The entire conversation-the entire week she has moved according to Quinn's whims and it's so frustrating to have the girl across from her and be completely unable to ask the one question that has been burning in her mind.

"If I recall correctly, I didn't fuck you, Rachel. You fucked me," she says, screwing up her face as she attempts another sip of her coffee.

"I thought you couldn't remember what happened," Rachel counters. She watches Quinn's face color and she can't deny that it's sort of cute. "I think it meant something to you, Quinn, and I think you want to talk about it because if you didn't, we wouldn't be here." She watches the tendons in Quinn's jaw tighten. The silence is heavy with their eyes locked, challenging each other. It's Quinn who breaks first. She straightens herself and disappears into the Lima Bean bathroom.

When ten minutes pass and Quinn still hasn't returned Rachel gathers her courage and strides into the bathroom. Quinn is at the sink with her head lowered, her hands gripping either side of the cold ceramic. Her shoulders are shaking and her breathing is unsteady.

"Quinn...are you crying?" Her head snaps at the sound of Rachel's voice and before Quinn can deny it Rachel sees her red eyes and tear stained cheeks. She looks so fragile and Rachel just wants to wrap her in her arms and hold her close until she's calm.

"No," she denies. "Do you really think I'm pathetic enough to sob my eyes out over Rachel Berry in public? God, you really are so incredibly full of yourself. You think that one drunk mistake means that I'm in love with you when the reality is that I've been desperate to get the stench of your drugstore perfume out of my hair. You think you're so hot waltzing in here trying to get me to admit to feeling something for you just so you won't feel so cripplingly, desperately alone-"

"Stop it, Quinn," Tears are burning the corners of her eyes and she knows that Quinn is perfectly capable of continuing the abuse until she's a sobbing mess on the floor of a public bathroom. "If you want me to leave, fine, I'll leave. We can just forget that we met up here tonight or at all and you can go back to making my life a living hell and I can go back to pretending I was more to you than a living vibrator—"

Her back makes contact with the cold tile wall and her hands are held high above her head by her wrists. She can feel Quinn's knee pressing between her thighs, forcing her knees apart and she can't believe that Quinn's teeth are finding their way up her neck behind her ear.

"Ahhh, Quinn," she breathes. It's as if they're back on Rachel's carpet in her dark bedroom. Quinn's hands are roaming up and down Rachel's body and her lips are warm and sweet against hers. "Quinn I—"

"Shh, don't say anything," Quinn murmurs into their kiss. "We'll figure it out later but for now," she drawls, "I need you."

Rachel can't control the moan that escapes her when Quinn's hands settle on her hips and slip under the hem of her shirt. Her fingertips are cool against Rachel's skin that burns hotter with each of Quinn's strokes. Then those hands with their long, elegant fingers push upward, under Rachel's bra, cupping her small breasts and teasing her nipples. With each shuddering breath Rachel fights to keep her eyes open and on Quinn instead of letting her lids fall and losing herself to the sensation.

A hand travels from her breast down her ribcage over the soft swell of her belly and god Quinn's not stopping. Her hand disappears under Rachel's skirt and starts stroking against the cotton of her…oh god she prays that Quinn doesn't see that she's wearing day of the week underwear.

"It's just….these are the only ones I had clean and it's laundry day and I know it's embarrassing but—"

"I swear to god if you start rambling I'll stop."

Rachel bites the inside of her cheeks to keep from uttering another word.

"That's better," Quinn smirks as she works a finger under the elastic and then, right there, is an electric current where Quinn's fingertip meets the swollen rise of her clit. Rachel buries her hands in Quinn's hair and when Quinn hisses in pleasure, Rachel grinds herself harder against Quinn's hand.

"Rach, you're so wet…" she murmurs, "I want inside."

"Uhhuh," she moans, "Quinn please-"

Quinn slips two fingers inside and Rachel feels herself stretch around her and the way Quinn is moving in and out of her with a thumb circling her clit is making her tremble and her legs are shaking and she's not sure how much longer she can stand this-or stand at all.

"That's right, Rachel," Quinn whispers against her ear, "you feel so good. Do you want me to keep going?"

"God yes," Rachel groans. She has so many questions, more than she had before coming into this bathroom but none of the answers Quinn could possibly give would be worth ruining this moment.

Rachel's breathing is coming faster, harder, louder, and her moans are unrestrained. They bounce off the tiles of the bathroom and Rachel, who has heard her own voice singing any number of songs, has never heard herself make noises like this before. Her voice climbs higher and higher as Quinn drags her fingers out and then thrusts them back even deeper. She has Rachel pinned to the wall and Rachel is thankful for the support. She's memorizing the feeling of Quinn's fingers insider her, spreading her open, when the throbbing building between her legs explodes and the most intense orgasm she's ever experienced washes over her. She collapses in Quinn's arms, sweaty and spent, and in complete disbelief.

Quinn washes her hands in silence and leaves the bathroom. By the time Rachel has collected herself, freshened herself up the best she can in a coffee shop bathroom and returned to the table, Quinn is gone.

* * *

><p>The drive home is a blur. She passes the familiar streets and obeys the proper traffic signals, but she's on autopilot and her mind is so far away from the driver's seat. Her initial thought, what the hell just happened, is shoved to the side by the more pressing Quinn Fabray just gave me a mind blowing orgasm in a public bathroom.<p>

Daddy is still in the living room when she enters the house as quietly as she can.

"Did you get your book, Bug?"

"No," she stammers, crafting a lie as she goes, "they didn't have it at the Lima Public Library so I drove to the community college to sort through their collection but I was unable to find the book there and then I made the attempt to look through the online collection and-"

"Rachel, you're a phenomenal actress but a terrible liar. I don't know what you were doing out so late but I don't for one minute believe that you've been out all this time looking for a book. I'll let it go this time but please just be honest with Dad and me. We love you and we just want to make sure you're safe."

Rachel is certain that fathers would agree that the game she and Quinn have begun is anything but safe, but she apologizes, kisses Daddy on the cheek, and buries herself between her sheets. She falls asleep replaying the scene in the Lima Bean over and over and imagines that there's still a trace of Quinn's scent on her pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Quinn resumes her stony silence and Rachel doesn't push. When Quinn breezes past her in the hallway with her hand in Finn's Rachel clings to her memory of the night before and focuses her attention to her pink spiral bound notebook that holds the disjointed lines of song attempt after song attempt. During study hall she tries to pen something resembling a song but the only efforts she produces explicitly describe honey-blonde hair and gold flecks in hazel eyes. It doesn't help when Finn brushes Quinn's hair back and kisses her cheek before settling his arm around the back of her chair and pulling her closer.

Is she imagining it or does Quinn sneak her the subtlest of glances

During practice Quinn raises her hand and asks Mr. Shue if they can push back their Friday rehearsals to 3:45 instead of 3:30 so she can attend Ms. Pillsbury's Celibacy Club revival. Rachel's eyes widen when she hears Quinn's request and when she looks Quinn's way her stare meets Finn's and he looks as puzzled as Rachel feels. When Shuester agrees Rachel vows to go along. It might give her the chance to find out what's really going on with her and Finn. If she's headed to Celibacy Club meetings then she's not sleeping with Finn which means that the only person Quinn is having sex with is Rachel.

Of course when she shows up at the meeting on Friday she doesn't announce any of these as her motivations.

"Rachel, I'm so pleased that you've joined us for this meeting. If you don't mind saying a few words about your choice to attend today I'm sure we'd all love to listen," Ms. Pillsbury says encouragingly. Rachel sweeps her gaze across all of the empty chairs around the table-the only other people in the room are Ms. Pillsbury and Quinn.

"Well," she starts shakily. She can't announce that she's only committed herself to this meeting to learn more about Quinn's connection to Finn. "I'm here because I think that this is a unique opportunity to seek respite from the overwhelmingly sexual culture that surrounds us all, especially in high school. I also want to make an effort to learn different methods by which to develop intimacy in relationships without sexual conduct."

Quinn rolls her eyes and Rachel clasps her sweating hands tighter together.

"Very good, Rachel! I think that's a very mature answer and I truly believe with your mindset you'll gain a lot from our weekly meetings."

"Oh come on..." Quinn grumbles.

"Why are you here, Quinn?" Rachel questions. Quinn flushes from across the table.

"I'm here because I've learned the true advantages on abstinence after my...deviation last year resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. I'm putting my life back together and I'm determined not to let the mistakes of my past completely derail my future."

"Oh," Rachel nods, "I see. So does that mean you and Finn aren't..."

"That's not any of your business," she replies coolly. "My relationship with Finn has nothing to do with you or with your obvious fascination with him."

"You know quite well that's not what concerns me Quinn-"

"Don't start, Berry or you'll regret it," she growls.

"All right!" Ms. Pillsbury claps her hands together and Rachel snaps her mouth shut. "Very good start to the discussion today. What wonderful evidence that sex really does complicate relationships-even those on the periphery. I think we'll end here today-I need to start my weekly pre-weekend housecleaning, but really this was a great first meeting. Will I see you two next week?" Ms. Pillsbury clutches her briefcase as she starts out of the room.

"Maybe," they reply in unison.

"Excellent!" She exclaims. "I'll see you both on Monday!" The door clicks shut and Quinn starts to collect her things.

"You shouldn't be here, Rachel."

"Why not? It's open to everyone."

"I don't buy your reasons for coming here and I don't buy that you aren't trying to get some sort of inside scoop on my relationship with Finn. You know how confusing this is for me...why would you try to make it harder? I don't owe you any sort of explanation or any answers."

"I didn't ask you for any, but I do think I'm entitled to _some_ information. I think I deserve to know if you and Finn are sleeping together considering you and I have now had sex twice."

"And you really think that's going to happen again?"

"I didn't think it would happen once, Quinn," Rachel mumbles.

Quinn sighs and steps forward.

"Me either. But are you complaining?" Quinn's thumb grazes her cheek and the _no_ gets caught in her throat. Their faces are so close together and if Rachel were to move her head a half an inch forward their lips would touch. When Rachel leans forward Quinn pulls back immediately.

"Not now. Monday, the choir room at 3:00. Meet me there. Don't tell anyone or I'll call this...whatever it is... off."

"Why not now?"

"Because I'm meeting Finn before rehearsal-not that it's any of your business."

"Oh...okay."

Quinn slips out the door wordlessly, leaving Rachel behind to pack up her belongings and makes her way to the choir room. She takes a seat in the front and her stomach churns when Finn and Quinn show up five minutes late, looking tousled and flushed. The secret smile playing on Finn's lips is too much and Rachel busies herself with those lyrics that just aren't connecting.

The weekend passes without incident. Her Saturday voice lesson is particularly effective in giving her some way to express her emotional frustration. Her particularly touching version-if she does say so herself- of We Kiss in a Shadow-Barbra's arrangement obviously- moves her teacher to tears.

"You've outdone yourself, Rachel. That was wonderful-deeply touching and passionate."

"That _is_ my trademark," she remarks as she tosses her hair over shoulder.

"I"m very aware, my dear, but this was something else entirely. You must have one hell of a connection to these lyrics."

Rachel is dying to reveal to her trusted coach the events of the past week and what she hopes the next week will bring, but Quinn's voice echos icily in her memory _don't tell anyone or I'll call it off_. Instead Rachel just smiles and claims a deep, emotional tie to The King and I. But as she drives home the lyrics cycle in her head _We kiss in a shadow, we hide from the moon, our meetings are few and over too soon. _She sings the verse over and over to herself and at a red light the tears threatening to fall begin to roll down her cheeks. She can wait until Monday, but it isn't easy-especially when she doesn't know exactly what she's waiting for.

She's desperately wants to call someone when she gets home. Maybe Kurt would be helpful in analyzing some of Quinn's reactions and how her behavior interplays with possible homosexual tendencies, or if she 'pings' on his gaydar. Or she could call Puck and ask what it means if Quinn is willing to have sex with her but isn't willing to acknowledge it later. She almost wants to call Finn and ask him if Quinn has ever seduced him in a public place, or if she usually drags her teeth over his lower lip as tenderly as she did to Rachel, or if she ever growls that she "needs him" like she did in the bathroom.

But they're all bad ideas and they all directly conflict with Quinn's one request for silence. Besides, there's the chance she'd get answers she doesn't want to hear.

When they sit down to dinner she pushes her kale around her plate and leaves her tofu completely untouched. She's would like to call it mulling, but she knows that by some it could be called dwelling.

Dad and Daddy glance at each other before Dad steadies himself and puts a hand on Daddy's shoulder.

"Rachel, Daddy and I have a very serious question for you and we need you to answer it honestly...are you experimenting with drugs?"

The question jerks her out of her latest sexual fantasy and her mouth drops open.

"Of course not! Not only would consuming substances via inhalation put my singing voice at risk, but I cannot imagine putting anything in my body that could cause me to lose control of my faculties," then her mind flashes back to the bathroom and Quinn's fingers and her mouth snaps closed.

"We're just worried about you, sweetie. You haven't been yourself since we got back. Is something wrong? Did someone else get the solo for Regionals?"

"No, everything is absolutely fine. Trust me, if that happens you _will _hear about it. I'm just a bit overcommited at the moment and it's taking more of my energy than I expected."

Her dads look at each other quizzically and then glance back to her.

"Just promise you'll come to us if you're struggling, Rachel. You're our daughter-we know when something isn't right."

"Of course, Daddy." She forces herself to take a few bites of tofu before excusing herself to her bedroom.

_1 New Message: Quinn Fabray_  
><em>Are you busy?<em>

_Just finished dinner. Why?_

An agonizing fifteen minutes go by before her phone glows again.

_Just wondering I guess. What are you doing?_

_I was going to try to work on my idea for an original song for glee._

_How's that going?_

_Okay. _It's not, but Quinn doesn't need to know that.

_Well, I guess I'll let you get back to that. See you tomorrow._

Rachel, reluctant to surrender this small slice of what almost feels like attention types hurriedly types back, _How was your weekend? What did you do?_-but by the time she's finished the last problems on her calculus worksheet and performed her post brushing rinse her inbox is still empty.

The last bell of the day rings at 2:45 and Rachel is waiting in the choir room by 2:50. She flips her phone open and closed, open and closed. She's read Quinn's texts so many times. It isn't like the messages are affectionate or even informative, but their existence proves to Rachel that she is, or at least _was_ on Quinn's mind, which is more than she ever imagined. The next ten minutes inch by; Rachel is sure the second hand on the clock is moving backward.

At 3:00 Quinn lets herself into the room and without a word walks toward Rachel, takes her hands, pulls her across the room and pins her against the piano. Rachel doesn't try to make conversation-she can't. The way Quinn's lips are pressed to Rachel's while her hands grip Rachel's hips.

She's so strong. Her cheerleading has given her incredible upper body strength, which she demonstrates as she wraps Rachel's legs around her waist and holds her up against the piano. Rachel feels weightless, limitless, out of the reach of reality's rude awakening that she knows lies on the periphery-but with Quinn gripping her ass and tracing the roof of her mouth with her tongue it doesn't matter. Quinn is rocking her hips back and forth against Rachel's before she hoists her on top of the piano and makes quick work of pulling her tights down her thighs, over her feet, and letting them flutter to the ground.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Quinn asks as she hooks Rachel's legs over her shoulders and sinks to her knees.

"Don't you think this is a bad idea? I mean someone could walk in at any moment and Brad is sure to notice that someone has desecrated his piano-"

"The door is locked, Rachel. Don't worry about it." That voice like velvet and the soft drag of Quinn's tongue along her folds has her rocking forward against Quinn's mouth and biting back her moans. She never imagined how different a tongue would feel, how unlike a finger it would be slipping up and around her clit or how it would slide softly against her entrance, at one moment flat and the next pointed, poking into her. Rachel is pushing herself against Quinn's mouth and gripping Quinn's hair, pulling her closer. She's right there, right on the edge...

And the doorknob rattles. Someone is trying to get in. Rachel steals a look at the clock: 3:20. People are going to start making their way into the room. She leaps off the piano, pulls her panties back up around her hips and shoves her tights in her bag. She gives Quinn a nod, signaling that it's safe to open the door.

Artie rolls in and eyes the two suspiciously.

"We were working on a duet," Quinn explains.

"I dig it, girl," he says. His eyes land on Rachel, who has situated herself in her usual chair in the front. "You do what you do."

It isn't long after their near discovery that the rest of their team mates file into the room chatting and warming up together.

Rachel can't help but notice out of the corner of her eye that Quinn is glancing her way every so often as they sing through the new song Mr. Shue has passed out. Is Quinn really smiling at her? Rachel gives her a small smile back and looks down at her music. She can feel Quinn's eyes on her when she belts out the solo and when she turns back to look Quinn is giving her a small thumbs up. She tries to control the joy building in her chest. Rachel catches Quinn in the act of staring her up and down and Quinn, caught, pretends to bury herself furiously in her music. Something has shifted here, Rachel knows, and it feels good. She feels confident, beautiful and somehow she knows she's wanted.

After practice Rachel stays behind to ask Mr. Shuester if he can transpose the key of the song they're singing because it really isn't in her optimal range. Even after she's argued convincingly and Mr. Shue has sighed and refused her, Quinn is still sitting in the choir room with her head in a book.

"You didn't leave with Finn," Rachel comments.

"Nope. He's got weight training until 5:30. Did you drive today?"

"No, my dads dropped me off. I'm supposed to get a ride back with Kurt, but I think he'd rather spend that time with Blaine by himself."

"Let me drive you home," Quinn says. It's a demand, but it sounds like a question. It's as if Quinn knows she doesn't really have to ask because Rachel's answer is obvious.

"Okay." She pulls out her phone to text Kurt _Go ahead and meet up w/ Blaine without me. Found another ride. _He texts back right away _You're a saint. TTYL. Want to hear who you're going home with. Finn? Fill me in later!_

"Ready? Let's go."

Quinn leads the way to the parking lot and Rachel is always half a step behind on legs just a few inches too short to keep up.


	5. Chapter 5

"Your car is really nice," and it's obviously true and she knows that Quinn knows it.

"Sweet sixteen present," she says as she turns the key and the car springs to life. "One of the advantages of having workaholic parents I guess."

"My car used to belong to one of my dads but then he decided he wanted a hybrid so I got the lovely '94 Corolla."

"Do you call both of your dads 'dad'?" Quinn asks. It's an innocent enough question but Rachel is embarrassed. She's always been humiliated when the topic came up in school as a kid and she's can't expect Quinn to be any less critical.

"No..." she starts. "One of my dads is Dad and the other one is Daddy...I know, it's babyish but what else was I going to do? Call them Black Dad and White Dad?"

Quinn laughs and Rachel picks at her sweater nervously. "Don't worry about it," she smirks. "It's cute."

Rachel blushes violently. "Thanks," she mumbles, "I guess."

Quinn's hand rests on the gearshift between and Rachel longs to put her hand on top of Quinn's. She can imagine curling her fingers around the ones under her. She wonders if they still smell like her, the way hers had even hours after Quinn left her house.

"I need to say something," Quinn announces at a red light, "about what we've been doing."

"Okay..." Rachel mentally prepares herself to leap out of the car if necessary.

"I'm not making any promises, Rachel-and I'm not willing to open up some big, emotional can of worms, but I'd like to start spending more time with you outside of school. Alone."

Rachel tries not to let her mouth fall open. It isn't at all what she expected Quinn to say-something along the lines of "I filmed everything that happened in the choir room on my cell phone and I'll post it online if you don't hand over all of the solos until we graduate" would have surprised her less.

She nods, "Okay." She holds the other six hundred words she's dying to blurt out inside.

"I'm not saying that I'm gay," Quinn adds, "or that I want to date you. But I'm having fun doing whatever it is we're doing and I...I thought I should see where you stand." Is that a tremor Rachel sees take control of Quinn's hand, just for a moment?

"Yeah-I mean, I understand. I totally understand. So it's like...friends with benefits?" She struggles to get the phrase past her lips.

"Well...we've never really been friends, but I guess, sure."

The question is niggling her out of the conversation. "What about Finn?"  
>"What about him? You are not about to tell me that you're somehow still hung up on him when I'm telling you that I want-"<p>

"No," she interrupts. "Won't he be hurt that we're...seeing each other?" _Seeing each other._This is all happening so fast, but it still feels like they're moving much too slowly. Quinn keeps her eyes on the road and Rachel wishes she could see Quinn's expression shift as their conversation moves forward.

"Finn and I aren't in a relationship and we've never said anything about being exclusive. And you and I aren't dating. I can't see a reason to tell him. I get it if you're uncomfortable and can't do it but-"

The idea of Rachel Berry passing up this chance is laughable. "No, I mean, yes I want to do this and no, I'm not going to say anything."

"I had a feeling you might say that," Quinn remarks, and Rachel can hear the smirk playing on her lips even if she can't see it head on.

"I have one question, though," Rachel says as Quinn turns onto her street and turns into her driveway without any instruction.

"What is it?"

"I just...I need to know before we get into this. Do you have feelings for me? Any at all? You know you have me in an extremely vulnerable position and that on principle I am not, by any means, emotionally stable nearly ninety percent of the time. I-I need to know where I stand with you before I let myself do this..."

"What do you mean by _this?"_Quinn asks. She just sounds curious-not accusatory like Rachel would have imagined.

"I mean being in a place where you could easily crush me. I want to do this, Quinn, believe me I do. I just don't want to be an idiot being strung along for the sake of a prank. So...do you?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know," she replies nonchalantly. "I guess, maybe. Probably. I haven't really thought about it."

"Oh," she answers. "Me either. I was just curious..." She's sure even her feet are blushing bright red. What an obvious lie. "Do you want to come in?"

"Are your dads home?"

Rachel shakes her head. "They'll be at work until 5:30."

"Okay."

Rachel leads her up the stairs to her room, which couldn't look more different than it did the last time they were here. For one thing, the lights are on and when Quinn leans in to kiss her, Rachel can clearly make out her features. And no one's clothes are flying off. Yeah, Quinn takes Rachel's top off but she does so slowly, teasingly, slowly inching up the fabric and stroking each centimeter of skin exposed. Rachel's fingers curl around Quinn's lower back and she traces hearts with her nails...which she hopes Quinn won't notice. Nothing screams obsessed and desperate faster than drawing hearts on your hookup.

The sun that streams through the window covers Quinn in the most delicious golden glow that Rachel has ever seen. Quinn is honey, sweet and smooth under her hands and she wants to touch her tongue to every bit of her. The light tangles in her hair and Rachel's fingers dive after it, as if she's trying to extract a ray of sun from Quinn's curls. This is the first time Quinn has been underneath her and lets Rachel explore and Rachel doesn't take it for granted. She watches each expression that crosses Quinn's face. She's particularly fond of the way Quinn stretches her neck up and her eyes flutter shut when Rachel presses her lips to her collarbone, giving her greater access to the graceful column of her neck.

When they're lying on their sides facing each other Rachel runs her hand up and down the side of Quinn's body, riding the hills and valleys of her curves. The hollow of her waist up the peak of her hip and back down again is a climb Rachel would willingly make any day. She loves the play of shadow at Quinn's inner thigh, between her breasts, and the way the sun bounces off her shoulder and hip. Quinn in the late afternoon light is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen and the only way she can keep that sentiment a secret is to continue to trail kisses up and down Quinn's arms.

They take time undressing each other until they're down to their underwear and their clothes are pushed to the foot of the bed. Quinn's eyes rake over Rachel's body and she feels more exposed than she felt when she was completely naked with Quinn a few weeks before. She almost wants to wrap her arms over her chest or her stomach and shield them from view. She's thankful she had the foresight to shave.

There's a mole on Rachel's left breast, dark and raised, that Jesse once called it her "third nipple" and she hasn't ever looked at it the same way again. Now Quinn is tracing it, running her thumb over it, and Rachel wants to cry with mortification. She takes Quinn's hand and guides it to the rise of her right breast. Quinn pulls out of their kiss and looks at Rachel with a cocked eyebrow.

"Are you embarrassed?" She asks. There's a smirk that she's clearly trying to conceal.

"I'm just a little self-conscious about certain dermatological abnormalities," she admits.

"Don't be," Quinn decrees. She takes Rachel's hand and leads her hand to her stomach. Rachel feels long, jagged grooves running up and down Quinn's midsection. Some are a light pink, others darker, some blend right in. "We all have our imperfections." Rachel draws her face back and presses a kiss, the first kiss _she's _initiated, to Quinn's lips.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

Quinn kisses her back, "You're beautiful..."

"What?"

"Nothing," she straightens and looks to the clock on Rachel's bedside table. "Your dads will be home soon. I should go."

"You could stay for dinner," Rachel proposes, running her fingers along Quinn's stomach. "My dads wouldn't mind; they love company."

"No. That exactly the opposite of what we agreed on earlier. We don't go from fuck-buddies to meeting each other's parents in one afternoon. Absolutely not. If that's what you think this is, Rachel, then maybe we can't do this after all."

"No!" Rachel protests. "I-I understand and you're right. That's too much too fast. I just need to wrap my head around the implausibility of this situation occurring at all and...look, I really do understand what we're doing here. Just give me a chance."

Quinn cups Rachel's face and kisses her once more. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel nods. "Do you want me to walk you out?"

"I've got it. I'll talk to you later."

Rachel hears Quinn's car start and listens to the sound of the engine travel further and further away.

* * *

><p>She gets an email from Ms. Pillsbury later that evening about having the Celibacy Club do a performance for the Glee Club to combat Ms. Holliday's influence last week. Rachel has to admit that, while she is not one to dictate how anyone expresses his or her sexuality, it's probably against school code for a teacher to give a student a lap dance-and if she's singing with the Celibacy Club she's sure to sing lead. She wonders if Quinn got the same message.<p>

_Did Ms. Pillsbury send you an email about performing for the Celibacy Club? _

Her phone jingles right away. _Yeah...I don't know if I want to do it,_Quinn answers.

_Why not?_

_Did you listen to the song? She attached the file. It's weird. Like from the 60s or something._

Rachel double clicks the file and the music filters through the speakers. _I think my dads played this at our last 4th of July party. It might be fun. And it's the 70s, by the way. I bet it will really suit your voice._

_Fine. But only because I believe so strongly in spreading the message of celibacy._

Rachel doesn't know if that last text is meant to be a joke, but she laughs anyway. _Let's practice tomorrow after glee?_

_Can't. I have plans after glee._

And just like that her throat tightens and the weight of reality crushes her lungs. 'Plans' mean Finn, who gets to hold Quinn's hand and kiss her without worrying if she'll lash out and take her out to nice places and say how he feels about her. Finn means the real world where Rachel is nothing more than an extra-curricular activity to stick between school and Glee and her real relationship.

_Okay. Well, maybe during lunch then. _She replies. She tosses her phone on the bed and jumps on the elliptical for a rare evening work out. Maybe the endorphins will block out the images of Finn and Quinn coupled in the back of his car or on his bedspread. It's much less humiliating to have sweat running down her face than tears.

* * *

><p>Rachel's almost hoping that practicing with Quinn during lunch will become a repeat of their choir room encounter the day before, so she didn't bother with tights. But she did bring the sheet music Ms. Pillsbury sent just in case.<p>

Quinn rushes in, flustered, and shrugs off her bag to the floor. "I only have twenty minutes," she says, "so let's just do this."

Rachel makes her move, walking towards Quinn with a look on her face that she hopes is seductive-she practiced in her mirror that morning and managed to go from puggish to something passing for sexy before breakfast.

"The song, Rachel. Let's work on the song."

"Oh, right. I understand completely. Let's work on the song. Ms. Pillsbury said her boyfriend is singing the lead with Noah-"

"Wait, why is _Puck _singing with the celibacy club?"

Rachel shrugs. "I guess he joined?"

"Whatever," Quinn sighs. "So if the guys are singing the lead then where does that lead us?"

Rachel points out their part in the song and they work through the harmonies. Quinn is actually quite skilled on the piano (not that Rachel's surprised considering her long, thin fingers...) and plays through the song a few times before singing along. Then they try it a capella

_Thinkin' of you's working up my appetite _  
><em>Looking forward to a little afternoon delight<em>  
><em>Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite <em>  
><em>And the thought of rubbin' you is gettin' so exciting...<em>

And Quinn is standing right behind Rachel and her hands have found their way to her hips and they're rocking side to side together and Rachel is starting to think that this is isn't really an appropriate song for the Celibacy Club to be performing. It doesn't really seem like it fits the message they want to send, but it's not like she's going to complain when she feels Quinn's chest pressing against her back.

The bell for lunch period ends, and Quinn whispers, oh god right in her ear, to come over after school to keep practicing.

"But I thought you had plans..." she nearly moans.

"Not anymore." She curls a finger under Rachel's chin and angles her head upward. Their lips meet briefly, and Rachel can taste the sticky sweetness of Quinn's lip-gloss with the tip of her tongue.

They run through the piece once before their fingers tangle together and Quinn is brushing Rachel's hair out of her face and freely kissing her cheeks and neck and lips in a way that is so fundamentally _not Quinn_that Rachel almost asks her to stop. At least when Quinn is yelling she knows what she's in for.

Then they're on the floor as the song repeats over and over from Rachel's iPod while they learn each other's bodies. They don't even pretend to rehearse the song. Instead they lie naked and sweaty on the floor with their hair tangled together.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," Quinn murmurs.

"I don't either," she says, "but I like doing it."

The ticking of the antique grandfather clock echoes through the empty house and Rachel is struck by the noiselessness of the place. It's a mansion...a small scale one, but definitely too large for only two people. She can't hear pipes gurgling or kids next door playing outside. It's large, silent, and vacuous.

"You should probably go. My mom will be home soon." It comes out cold, and distant.

"Oh...okay." When Rachel tries to place one more kiss on Quinn's lips, she turns her head ever so slightly and Rachel gets cheek instead.

One step forward, two steps back.


	6. Chapter 6

Daddy is standing at the stove stirring a pot while Dad sits at the kitchen table with a crossword puzzle when Rachel walks in.

"You're home late, sweetie—dinner's nearly ready. Did practice just let out?"

"They've probably got you busy over there rehearsing for Regionals. What are you guys working on? You blew us away with that Journey medley last year."

"No," Rachel says as she fills a glass of water from the tap. "I was working on something else. Ms. Pillsbury asked a small group of students to help her with a performance tomorrow and I was rehearsing." There's no way on earth she'll tell them that she's singing with the Celibacy Club. Hearing that their baby girl is intending using her vocal gifts to promote abstinence only education will only break their hearts after the lengths they have gone to ensure that she is prepared to make smart and informed decisions about sex by supplying her with only the highest rated comprehensive sexual education books, videos and PowerPoint presentations.

"Were you rehearsing with someone from Glee?" Daddy moves from the stove to the counter to toss a salad. "Set the table, will you Rach?" Dad asks without looking up. She pulls three plates down from the cabinet and starts to lay them out on the table. Dad flashes her a small smile before glaring down at his puzzle.

"Quinn Fabray," she says as she lifts her glass to her lips. She knows the water muffles the name. She can't claim it is incidental.

"Who?" Daddy asks. Rachel takes a long drink of water before clearing her throat. She knows Dad won't like it. He's bristled at the name Fabray ever since the Fabrays took out a full-page ad admonishing the Pastor who had performed her dads' commitment ceremony.

"Quinn Fabray," she says hurriedly. "So what are we having for dinner? It smells great; let me help with something. Has anyone drained the pasta? I'll drain the pasta—"

"Bug, simmer and sit down." Daddy says, stopping her in her tracks. Dad and Daddy exchange a glance that Rachel can't quite read, but they say nothing. Rachel takes her place at the table and straightens her cutlery over and over.

They join her at the table a minute later and Daddy lays out the meal.

"You know Hiram, I think their voices will blend beautifully. We haven't heard Quinn sing much on her own but from what I remember she has a very sultry lower ranger that would blend really nicely with Rachel's head voice. And I'd love to see the two girls develop a friendship—"

"Maybe Rachel can provide some sort of example of what it means to be a decent human being because she sure as hell isn't getting that lesson at home," Dad interrupts sarcastically. Rachel spears a cherry tomato with her fork harder than she needs to as color rises from her cheeks to her ears she's sure. _Sultry? _Really, Daddy?

"Hiram, hush. We've always taught our daughter that it's important to make friends with people who are different than we are." Daddy tries to smooth over Dad's outburst, but Dad start to furiously butter his roll. "Leroy, please. _Different_ means interested in sports, or Canadian, or Brazilian—not a teenage pregnancy statistic who comes from the most notable homophobes in town who, you may or may not recall, has made our daughter's life a living hell since sixth grade when she intentionally tripped Rachel during a ballet recital. Don't you remember when she hacked Rach's Myspace?"

"She sang nothing but Alanis Morrisette for weeks…" Daddy recalls.

"Dads, it's just one performance," she stammers.

"Or when she hid Rachel's clothes under a ceiling tile during swim lessons in gym class and we had to drive down to the school to bring Rachel another outfit?"

"We never could get the smell of asbestos out of that sweater—"

"Or when she and the rest of the Cheerios filled Rachel's locker with those, god, what are they called? Those icy drinks they sell at that school?"

"Slushies," Rachel adds mournfully. "But that was ages ago…"

"I don't like you spending time with her, Rachel. She makes me nervous and I don't trust her not to hurt you."

"We're just singing together—"

"Just watch Leroy, this is going to turn into a Carrie remake with pig's blood in the auditorium."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hiram. You're overreacting; the girls are just singing one song. Let it go. Maybe she's changed." Daddy lays a hand on Dad's. Rachel would find this dramatic scene intriguing and an opportunity for a tear jerking performance as 'misunderstood yet desperate to please teenage daughter', but she can't quite separate from the moment. Everything that Dad is saying is true. Every incident he's mentioned is cataloged in one of many diaries and she remembers curling up on the couch with her dads rehashing the events of those and other episodes. Dad would brush her hair back and kiss her forehead, telling her that Quinn Fabray was jealous.

"You have everything she doesn't, Rachel," Dad had said when Rachel had found her name and phone number scrawled in every bathroom stall in the school with a lewd picture and an even more offensive phrase beside it.

"How is that possible?" She had sniffed. "Have you seen her, Dad? She's beautiful and blonde and thin and—"

"You're beautiful too, sweetheart, but you have things that Quinn Fabray desperately wants and will never have. You have a family who loves you and cares for you. You have talent that is going to skyrocket you out of this little town, and you have the confidence and self esteem to make your dreams come true. The Quinn Fabrays of this world have their looks, but how long will those last? Have you seen her mother?" Rachel had giggled then, imagining Quinn with the boxy suits and severe hairstyle worn by Judy Fabray. "The Quinn Fabrays of this world will never leave Lima. They will never be more than average because they don't have the courage to be more. She does this to you, Rachel, because she knows you're going places that she knows she never will. If she can't win, no one can, and that means you."

"I don't know, Dad…"

"You're special, Rachel Berry. You're special and it drives her crazy because more than anything in this world Quinn Fabray wishes she was half as special as you are."

Daddy changes the subject and Rachel expects that the tightness in her chest will loosen as the talk at the table turns to Dad's newest case, but it's a struggle to swallow past the lump in her throat.

They're talking about two different Quinns, she and Dad. The Quinn Fabray who terrorized her for the better part of her adolescence wasn't the same girl who spent the afternoon spread below her on the Fabray's plush white carpet whispering her name endlessly as her body tugged Rachel closer to her core.

No, they couldn't be the same. Quinn has grown or changed somehow. Maybe she's matured. Or maybe Rachel is cracking through a tough exterior to get at Quinn's true soft, caring and nurturing nature by the power of love and devotion.

She knows Dad has a point. Quinn still sends her home in tears most afternoons—just like she did when they were children. Everything is different but nothing really changes.

* * *

><p>"I'm not singing the song," Quinn declares. She's waiting at Rachel's locker when she arrives at school the next morning. She's shocked Quinn even knows which locker is hers, but she's more shocked by Quinn's announcement.<p>

"What do you mean you aren't singing the song? Who's going to do the lower harmony? It's essential to the chord at the end of the number."

"Look Rachel, that song is obviously about sex and if we sing it together at the assembly everyone is going to find out what we're doing."

"That's ridiculous. The song isn't about sex. Ms. Pillsbury would never assign us the number if it had sexual themes—"

"Oh come on, Rachel. Don't be so naïve. 'The thought of rubbing you'? I can't sing something like that with you in front of everyone. They'll figure it out—they're dumb, but not that dumb."

"You're reading too much into this. Just sing the song. As President of the Celibacy Club you have an obligation to your cause. No one else is going to figure it out, and even if they realize the song is about sex, which I doubt, they'll just assume that Noah is trying to woo one of us."

Rachel watches Quinn roll her eyes and the gesture is exceptionally frustrating when paired with Quinn's defiant hands on her hips. All of that rehearsal time wasted…sort of.

"Why are you fighting for this? I thought you'd be happy to have the number to yourself." Rachel shrugs and opens her locker, fishing for something to do so she doesn't have to look at Quinn when she says, "I really want to sing with you."

She hears the click of Quinn's heels carrying her down the hallways and away from Rachel's hopes.

Rachel takes her seat in the choir room before the scheduled performance because Brittany and Santana want to sing something Miss Holliday helped them put together. She doesn't think much of Brittany's voice—it's a little airy and she lacks the control she needs to get a decent belt—so she assumes Brittany will dance to whatever it is Santana has up her sleeve. The two sitting on stools with Miss Holliday in the middle is surprising and not at all their typical fare.

She knows the look on Santana's face as her voice soars and her eyes soften on Brittany. Even from her seat next to Tina she can almost feel Santanta's iciness melting away and the passion passing from her to Brittany. It's heartbreaking and honest.

Her gaze travels, well practiced in its subtlety, to Quinn's flaxen waves and teal cardigan. She imagines the feel of the fabric on the pads of her fingers as she slides it down Quinn's arms to press breathless kisses to her shoulder.

_Please_, she pleads silently_, just turn around. Just look at me and share this moment with me because if they can do it, if they can sing together, why can't we?_

She catches the slightest flicker of hazel and for a brief moment as the harmonies rise they connect and the joy sends waves through her. She feels as if Quinn is reading her and feeling her hope rise as if she'll burst.

She can't contain her excitement and she leaps from her seat applauding.

"Can I just applaud this trio for exploring the uncharted world of Sapphic charm? Brava, brava!"

"Look," Santana snarls, obviously disgusted, "just because I sang a song with Brittany doesn't mean you can put a label on me. Is that clear?"

She's stunned and shamed into silence and sinks back in her seat and remains that way until she leaves to change into her costume for the performance.

"Rachel, wait," Quinn calls after her.

"What?" She spins on her heel. "Did my inappropriate praise of Brittany and Santana's duet somehow edge you closer to the closet door? I wasn't planning on saying anything to you regarding their performance but if you're going to force me to mention it I have to say I'm exceptionally jealous that they sang together in front of the Glee Club, basically admitting their relationship, and you—you're too scared to stand near me on stage while—"

"Oh please," Quinn sighs. "I'm going to do the performance. After the fuss you made in the choir room it would look suspicious for me to back out now. I wanted to tell you before practice that I changed my mind. I'll sing, but you have to follow the rules: no looking at each other. No eye contact. No touching."

"Deal."

She swears she isn't imagining the small smile playing at the corner of Quinn's lips.

Quinn is right…well, sort of . When Rachel listens to the song later before the assembly she realizes that there might be a few lines that could be considered sexual in the song, but there's no way anyone from the Glee Club could manage to make an assumption like the one Quinn is proposing from their performance. Just to be safe she keeps herself at a distance, moving her microphone even further away than Quinn's is from Ms. Pillsbury.

She breaks the rules only briefly when Miss Holliday tells Ms. Pillsbury the song really _is _about sex. Her eyes travel automatically to Quinn who is blushing a violent red and grimacing as if she'd rather be strapped to a bicentennial rocket.

"You know," she tells Quinn later as they redress each other after an attempt to change into their street clothes goes off track, "you can't go red like that every time someone mentions carnality in my presence. They might think something's going on between us." She flicks a nipple teasingly with her tongue.

To her surprise, Quinn laughs and pulls her closer.


	7. Chapter 7

[A/N] Hey guys! Thank you for reading. I just want to say right away that I am well aware that in this story Quinn has been an insufferable bitch. There isn't a whole lot that is redeeming her right now other than the scraps of attention she's throwing Rachel's way and I realize that. I'm writing it this way for a reason. I'm also trying to write Quinn in character as the canon portrays her, which means she is going to be manipulative, condescending, and downright mean. I wouldn't be writing this story if I intended for her to stay this way for its duration or it wouldn't make any sense. But Quinn Fabray is more than just a pretty lady for me to write Rachel having sex with and I want to treat this character with the respect and study I feel she deserves. She's going to keep being an asshole because that's who she is and how her past has shaped her, but I promise after this chapter she is going to be an asshole significantly less frequently. Just trust me and stick around for the transformation of both girls and how that shapes what they mean, and will grow to mean, to each other.

Thank you again for your feedback!

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><p>The next few weeks follow a predictable pattern. Rachel does her best throughout the school day to avoid catching a glimpse of Quinn positioned snugly under Finn's arm, then during lunch finds Quinn in the girl's bathroom for a brief 'meeting' before returning to their separate ends of the social ladder. During glee club Rachel directs her attention to any other number of sub-par performances and leafs through her rhyming dictionary while purposely avoiding the canoodling in the corner.<p>

Then she drives home and half-heartedly begins her homework while keeping her phone in the corner of her eye. She knows that it will buzz or blink with a message from Quinn-never a call, but always a text-indicating where and when they would meet. Rachel never gets a say in the matter. If Quinn summons her for a tête-à-tête at 4:35 at her house Rachel dutifully climbs into her car and drives while blasting the radio to drown out the voice that whispers how pathetic this automatic obedience makes her-she has the two block walk from her car's designated parking space to the Fabray's front door for those thoughts.

Sometimes, if Finn has practice, Rachel waits a full two hours for Quinn's message and they squeeze their time neatly between Rachel's arrival and Judy Fabray's return from work. Other times Rachel makes her way to Quinn shortly after rehearsal and their bodies intertwine for anywhere from fifteen minutes to three hours, depending on Quinn and Finn's after-school plans. Most of the time it goes off without a hitch.

Until it doesn't.

Tuesday there is a close call when an alarm fails and Rachel's fingers are buried to the hilt inside Quinn when the sound of the doorbell stops her heart and Quinn's moan seems stuck in her throat.

"Shit," Quinn hisses, "shit shit shit." She pulls her dress over her head and begins smoothing the bedspread before Rachel finds her underwear hiding in the folds of the blankets. "You have to leave."

"And how am I supposed to do that with, whoever it is, waiting outside? You don't expect me to risk my life by scaling down the side of your house like we're in some sort of comedy of errors, do you? Because if that's what you expect-"

"Whatever. Then just hide."

"Where?"

"In the closet? Under the bed? I don't really care, Rachel. Just hide _somewhere_. Now."

Quinn breezes out of the room, managing to look effortlessly put together, while Rachel sneaks into Quinn's bathroom to get dressed and wait for a signal indicating some sort of exit strategy. She sits on the bathtub's cold edge, willing herself to breathe as quietly as her racing heart and tight chest will allow.

"I mean, we could go to my house but, like, Kurt's there with Blaine and you know how he gets so weird when we're all there, you know, together. Plus Burt's there and if he sees me he's gonna want help with some car and I kinda just want to spend this time with you so...maybe we could stay here? Just this time." Finn's voice carries into the bathroom, past its closed door, and sounds like it's bouncing off every edge of each porcelain fixture and echoing back louder.

_No._ _You don't get to stay here and hold her on the bed that most certainly still smells like me._More than her concern regarding her quiet exit, Finn's proposition strikes a more central and far more sensitive nerve.

She knew they were sharing; from the start of this arrangement that had been the agreement. Rachel knew that whatever she had her fingers grasped, however tenuously, around was that which Quinn would deign to give of herself, was just conveniently left over after encounters with Finn such as the one she was suffering through at that exact moment. It isn't a new concept by any means, but being faced with the reality that lies just beyond the bathroom door makes it impossible to merely tuck the information away-especially with the sound of lips smacking wetly and Finn's low groans filtering in. The Fabrays certainly could have furnished their bathroom with thicker doors and walls than this.

It's too much. She rises and slinks out of the bathroom through the hallway entrance and spends the rest of the night trying to keep the memories of that afternoon at bay. She doesn't hear from Quinn, but it's not like she expected anything.

The next day proceeds like nothing happened, which doesn't surprise her in the least. Quinn completely avoids making eye contact and a part of Rachel hopes that some of that avoidance stems from embarrassment. She won't hold her breath.

She finds a note in her locker just before lunch in Quinn's sloping handwriting.

_Rachel,_  
><em>I'm sorry about yesterday...it was really awkward. Let me make it up to you later? How does my house at 4 sound?<em>

Question marks. That's new. Rachel folds the note and slips it in her pocket and when Quinn lifts her head in the cafeteria Rachel stares back squarely and gives her a small nod. Has she always been this powerless? When asked to describe herself with only three words during a Glee Club ice-breaker last year (Mr. Shue's way of trying to inspire some sense of community when he ran out of amateur dance moves) after little deliberation she had characterized herself as confident, driven, and fiercely independent. She doesn't feel that any of those words apply now-at least not when Quinn is in the picture. Now she feels weak, submissive, and pitiful-totally at the whim of someone else-and it doesn't feel good.

But when four o'clock comes Rachel is at Quinn's house waiting for the heavy oak door to swing open and reveal the girl who holds the trademark Rachel Berry Confidence in her delicate hands.

"Come in," Quinn says.

"Are you sure you don't have Finn already upstairs hiding from a surprise visit from your other lover?"  
>Quinn rolls her eyes, but doesn't slow her stride up the stairs. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I don't know what else you expected me to do, but I apologize anyway." She turns and takes Rachel's cheek in her hand. "You know, you're really cute when you're pissed."<p>

"That could not be more condescending if you made an effort to be so-" but her phrase is cut off when Quinn's lips press against hers.

It doesn't take long until they're tangled together on Quinn's bedspread in various states of undress.

"You know," Rachel gasps, "for someone who remains so adamantly straight, you certainly work quickly when it comes to undressing a girl."

"Mmhmm," she murmurs, "I guess." Her lips close around one of Rachel's very sensitive earlobes and Rachel releases a breathy sigh. "I'm not though, Rach. We talked about this."

"I know," and when Quinn's teeth pull at the skin on her neck it doesn't matter. And then Quinn's hands are cupping her breasts and she has this look on her face, like there's nothing that could shake her focus from the body underneath her, which Rachel finds simultaneously flattering and confusing. As good as Quinn's touch feels on her hardened nipple it doesn't distract from the memory of the day before and the knowledge that less than a day ago, Finn Hudson was probably in this same position,

"But if you aren't gay, why are you doing this?" It comes out broken on a moan, a sigh, a groan as Quinn's fingers tease further down.

"Rachel, shhh, don't worry about it."

"No, I am worrying about it," Rachel shifts their bodies and hovers over Quinn. She feels queasy when she realizes that when she's not around Finn has this same view. He knows just how her hair spreads beneath her and how creamy her skin looks against the soft sheets. He knows exactly how to spread his hands over Quinn's hips to make her buck forward desperately, just like Rachel does. Maybe she isn't as okay with this as she was a couple weeks ago. Maybe this isn't okay at all. "I need to know. Why are you doing this with me? Does this mean anything to you at all?" Anger rises to her throat and she knows it is rising to her face. She feels its heat radiating off her cheeks.

"Where is this coming from?" Quinn snaps. "Stop it."

"I heard you and Finn yesterday. Do you actually have feelings for me or is this all just a substitute for the lack of sexual gratification you aren't getting from Finn?"

"How dare you-"

"No, I need to know. You know how I feel about you. You knew before we started doing this and I've been a good sport. I've followed your rules. I've played your way, but this isn't a game to me. I want to be more than someone to fool around with-"

"You knew exactly what you were getting into. We agreed-"

"Because you're so much more than that to me."

"That's not my fault. I never asked you to feel-"

"Quinn, you know I love you-"

"Get out!" She shrieks.

"What?" This is not exactly the declaration of love she had hoped for.

"Get out! Leave! I told you not to bring feelings into this and you did, you were fine and you had to ruin it. We're done here." Quinn rises and bundles Rachel's clothes in her arms. "You can change in the bathroom. We both know how much you enjoy spying from that particular hideout. After that, get out. I don't want to see-"

"You can't just shut me out when you don't like what you hear, Quinn! You can't merely turn me out when you're faced with feelings you aren't prepared to face!"

"I swear Rachel, if you don't get out of my sight you will really be sorry."

The threat in her voice is very real and Rachel is almost certain that Quinn is stronger than she looks and is not above physically forcing her out of the house. Quickly and silently she pulls her clothes on in that bathroom and manages to will herself not to cry until she's in her car. She shakes with her sobs so violently that she has to pull over and collect herself. She doesn't need this, not right before Regionals when there's so much to do and she has a song to write. Maybe songwriting inspiration is the silver lining of this cloud.

In the safety of her own bathroom she strips down and steps into the shower, the water is icy against her skin, Daddy must be running the dishwasher and washing machine at the same time again, but she doesn't care. She scrubs her arms and legs _hard. _She tries to wash away any memory of Quinn's touch, scent, tenderness, anything that will call to mind those stolen moments hidden away in her arms.

She braids her wet hair away from her face and wraps herself in her soft pink bathrobe before she settles down at her desk with a pad of paper and her lucky pen. In an hour a small pile of crumpled pages surrounds her. Everything that flows from the nib of her pen is useless. It becomes immediately clear that she can't write about Quinn and their fallout-she's angry but not angry enough to reveal this particular indiscretion to the entire Glee Club. Instead she focuses on something else-something less explicit.

When she tells the story of her rise to fame, she decides, she won't talk about the first drafts that came before 'Only Child'. Instead she'll just pretend it was a flash of lightning like brilliance. It isn't the song she intended to write but she decides it's a masterpiece in an entirely different realm.

Rachel strides into the choir room with her shoulders back and a smile on her face. It's important to look confident and put together-especially when reality is just the opposite. But she has a song that's destined for greatness in her bag and a solo to secure. Really, she's too busy to even consider Quinn Fabray.

Then Quinn does the unthinkable. Now she wants to write an original song with Rachel? She wants to work together? The same girl who looks ready to break her nose the day before is volunteering, in front of the entire Glee Club, to spend time creating at her side. Rachel can barely keep her jaw from dropping to her lap. She whips her head around and wide-eyed stares at Quinn, whose blinding smile makes Rachel's heart lurch.

"Auditorium after school around 3:30. I already have some ideas for a song. Meet me there and we'll go over it."

"Um...okay?" She rolls back her shoulders further and adds almost an inch to her height by standing up as straight as she can.

"You're late."

She knows. At 3:30 she had laid a hand on the heavy auditorium door, but then she couldn't breathe and had to sit down for a minute and talk herself through the moment without throwing up. But this didn't have to be bed. She could use this interaction to her advantage-get some real answers. What else could Quinn rip away at this point?

"We're friends, right?" She asks before Quinn can open her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess so?" Rachel can see the surprise on Quinn's face but she doesn't stop to explain her question.

"I mean, like, everything happened last year… you gave your baby to my mom… we kind of bonded over it, right?" She knows this is unfair and manipulative, but it's a page out of Quinn Fabray's book and it works. She knows she has the power in that moment because Quinn stares at her, shell-shocked, for a full five seconds.

"What's your point?" Quinn snarls.

"My point is that I know we haven't spent a lot of time together this year but I thought that we were close enough to be honest with one another," Rachel states, simply and clearly. She could mention that she believes herself entitled to some form of honesty after how many afternoons she's spent getting to know the literal ins and outs of Quinn's body, but she doesn't.

"Go ahead," Quinn challenges, "ask me."

"Fine!" Rachel readies herself. "Are you and Finn _together_?" She winces as she hears the whine in her voice echo on the stage into the house. She knows that Quinn knows exactly what _together_implies.

Quinn looks pensive before saying quietly, "Yes, for a couple of weeks."

Something fragile inside of Rachel cracks and breaks. She's relieved to have an honest answer and to have her suspicions confirmed...but she didn't expect to have the answers handed to her so easily.

"It's like Groundhog's Day with you, Rachel," she laughs and its cruelty pierces Rachel's heart. "How many times do you have to make the same mistake to realize it's not going to work out?"

It takes a moment for Rachel to form an reply. She considers acknowledging the question with a proper answer, but nothing comes to mind.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, Quinn, and I'm happy for you and Finn, but don't go and try to rewrite history." She looks up and meets Quinn's gaze with a sense of power, of the slightest bit of control in her clenched fist. "It was real between us." It takes every ounce of will and care to keep the phrase steady and convincing. She doesn't want to plead or whine or turn it into some kind of question. The statement should be something Quinn cannot try to deny.

Quinn shrugs. "And how long did that last for?" She asks almost playfully. She sounds like she's teasing her-making light of the situation and it's cruel. Fury burns through Rachel and she fights the urge to storm out.

"Why are you being so mean?" She asks, pleadingly. This isn't the girl she's dreamed of, thought of, hoped for, written songs and poems and secret notes to. This is not _her_Quinn Fabray, but, she realizes a moment too late, this is all very Quinn Fabray. The Quinn in her mind, the one she is fighting to find...maybe she's just fiction.

Quinn rises from the piano and strides toward Rachel. She doesn't feel strong or tall anymore. In Quinn's shadow she feels shrunken and weak.

"Do you want to know how this story plays out?" She asks. She proposes it like a game. Rachel doesn't get a chance to agree. "I get Finn. You get heartbroken. And then Finn and I stay here, and start a family. I'll become a successful real estate agent," her voice falters and cracks. Is she about to cry? "And Finn will take over Kurt's dad's tire shop." She's crying as she finishes, a note of resignation to this bleak future carrying through her prophesy. "You don't belong here, Rachel! And you can't hate me for helping to send you on your way." She's shaking as she cries. Rachel puts out an arm to steady her? To comfort her? To embrace?

"You don't tell me what I want or what I deserve or where I belong. What I want is you, but I'm not-I'm not okay with some. I want all of you. I want a relationship with you that is more than just fooling around between classes. If you can't give me that then I'm...then take Finn, become Prom Queen and make yourself as popular and beloved as you think will make you happy. But just know that there's someone in front of you willing to make you feel that special everyday, with or without a tiara. And maybe that person is a girl, but you won't be able to deny forever that there's something between us that all of your bitterness and angry can't break." Quinn doesn't blink or make any move to respond. "I'm not giving up. It's not _over_between us," she assures. Maybe she's pleading and hoping that Quinn will see what Rachel is offering-another way out, an alternative to the bleakness she herself prescribed.

"Yes it is!" Quinn yells. Rachel takes a step back and the memories of Quinn's distorted and angry face from the day before make her dizzy. "You are so frustrating! And that is why you can't write a good song. Because you live in this little schoolgirl fantasy of life. Rachel, if you keep looking for that happy ending, then you are never going to get it right!"

The silence that follows the explosion is heavy and terrifying. Rachel worries that if she mutters even a syllable, Quinn will be off and running again with another list of insults, so she stands stock still in her place as Quinn moves easily back to the piano. "So we're done with that, and why don't we just return to our work, okay?" She sighs deeply and just like that it's over. The conflict is swept under the rug, the insults evaporate and Quinn is ready to pretend nothing further ever happened.

"No, I think I'm going to write this song on my own." Rachel turns on her heel and squeezes her eyes shut to stem the tears she knows are coming. She isn't about to let Quinn see her on the verge of tears two days in a row.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter has been LARGELY rewritten and edited to include the writing of Get It Right and Regionals.

* * *

><p>She stops at the Lima Bean, sure that Kurt will be there in his freshly pressed Dalton blazer and she could really use the company. She'd prefer to do something more exciting and less pitiful than sitting in her bedroom crying to a playlist of Braodway's most notorious tear-jerkers.<p>

She's right, of course, and as the barista hands her a soy latte she spots Kurt, who is cozily ensconced in a booth with Blaine next to him and Mercedes seated across.

"Why if it isn't the woman herself, Miss Rachel Berry! We were just talking about you. How's the Berry-Fabray composition coming along?"

"Oh," she sighs, "it's…disbanded. It seems we have two very different artistic visions that just refuse to meet in the middle."

"Two people with tempers and strong opinions? I could have told y'all that wasn't going to work out. Is she still alive even?" Mercedes flashes a teasing grin and scoots over in the booth for Rachel, who takes it, but not before rolling her eyes.

"How is your song coming?" She doesn't suppose Mercedes has started so she's surprised when she pulls out a few sheets of lined sheet music.

"Some of us don't need partners to write a kick ass song", she teases and Rachel scans the song. It _is _good. It's fun and upbeat and everything else Rachel feels has escaped her.

"I like it a lot, Mercedes. I simply can't wait to see your performance in Glee Club."

"Well, while you two have been refining your talents as the next Rogers and Hammerstein, I have some news." He clears his throat and takes Blaine's hand in his. "Kurt Hummel finally has a boyfriend!" Blaine smiles sheepishly.

The gasp that escapes her lips is genuine, but the smile she twists is forced and she hopes Kurt doesn't notice. "That's fantastic you guys! It was only a matter of time, right? What great news!" She knows her voice has transcended excitement and is now shrill. The familiarity of the Lima Bean, the recollection of that one evening where she and Quinn sat warring across the small table that she sees in the corner of her eye only manages to edge her closer to hysteria.

"Rach…are you okay?"

"Of _course_ I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be? One of my very best friends finds love in his new life where he is free to be himself in a way he never thought possible and—"

"Girl, calm down. What's going on with you?"

She glances at each of their faces and they all look concerned. "It's—it's nothing. I was just seeing someone and it ended less well than I hoped."

"Who?" Kurt and Mercedes exclaim in unison.

"Rachel, I'm saying this as your friend and as a step-brother. I love Finn but you can do better. Really."

'Umm," She has to think fast. "Unfortunately it is Finn. My love for him has never ceased, but I discovered this afternoon that the rumors about him and Quinn reuniting are true." Mercedes and Kurt exchange a small but secret look and she longs to tell them everything that had passed not only that afternoon, but across the span of the last several weeks. But no, she can't. It would be too hard to explain. Not only would she have to out Quinn, to which she morally and ethically objects, but she would have to defend her attraction and her desire and above that reveal far too much about her own sexual proclivities. No, she would stick to the lie and play it off.

"But it will be all right. As we know he has proven over and over that his attraction to me cannot be denied and, well your relationship, Kurt, is much more interesting than my own failed attempts. Now if the three of you will excuse me I have a song to write." Her latte shakes in her unsteady hand as she rushes to her car.

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><p>Stopping at the Lima Bean had been a mistake. If anything she is closer to a complete and total emotional breakdown than she had been earlier. Kurt's good news is salt in the wound Quinn caused in the auditorium and now the aching won't stop. The ten minute drive from the coffee shop to her house is made unbearably long as rush hour traffic and a broken traffic light force her behind the wheel for a full thirty minutes-thirty minutes spent clenching her jaw and furiously blinking back tears that threaten to fall and obscure her vision. Lima is a small town and it's entirely likely that she will pull up next to someone she knows who will catch her sobbing behind the wheel and, as much as Rachel relishes the drama, she would prefer to indulge in a good cry in the privacy of her own room.<p>

_You're never going to get it right. You're never going to get it right. _

She can't get home fast enough. She races up the stairs without acknowledging her dads and throws herself on her bed with her pad of paper and lucky pen.

Her pen can't keep up with how quickly the words are coming to her and she scribbles violently, trying to get out every lyric before it slips through her clenched fists like sand. It's torture, remembering the moments where she felt her heart could not have been fuller over the past weeks and feeling the prickled heat of embarrassment reminding her that time has passed.

_What can you do when your good isn't good enough? _

An hour later she holds in her hands a tear-stained page, messy with cross outs and notes crawling up and down the margins. This is the song she's been trying to write. It's a success, but what a price to pay for it.

She performs the song privately for Mr. Shue before Glee. She can't imagine trying to sing it with Quinn's eyes burning into her. He nods in approval as she ends her song. "It's perfect, Rach. Good work." She can barely bask in the praise because the last 24 hours have left her so emotionally drained. He tells her to have it ready for Saturday and she nods. He puts Tina and Brittany on back up and she breathes a sigh of relief. Imagining Quinn singing along with her on this number, of all numbers, would be just too much.

Luckily, Quinn is out of practice that afternoon at a doctor's appointment—it's almost too good to be true-and Rachel lets the rest of the club hear the number. Alongside 'Loser Like Me,' they unanimously decide it's the perfect set list and rehearse harmonies and choreography until Rachel is too exhausted to think.

"Rach! Wait up!" Finn takes long strides down the hallway to catch up as she breezes down the hallway. She is clinging to a small shred of hope that Quinn is waiting at her car with an apology and maybe a small yet tasteful bouquet, but if she stops to talk to Finn maybe she'll lose her chance and Quinn will leave without revealing her true feelings.

No, she cannot keep thinking this way. It's ridiculous and she knows it. There is no chance Quinn is waiting for her and she has nothing left to reveal after yesterday. She slows her pace and waits for Finn to match her stride.

"I just wanted to say that I really, really liked your song. It was really cool that you wrote something so, you know, from the heart. It was way better than your other songs. It was so good!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Finn," she can't quite meet his gaze at it isn't merely the height difference.

"I just," he starts sheepishly, "I wanted to ask if that song is about, like, us or anything. I mean I know things have been weird lately since I started dating Quinn and everything but I just wanted to let you know that even though we aren't together I really care about you—"

"Finn, it's okay. I'm just…I'm glad you're happy."

"Are you sure? 'Cause that song was super sad and you totally looked like you were going to cry, but not like the way you usually do when you're doing it on purpose. You looked legit really unhappy."

"I'm fine," she replies as calmly as she can. "I'm just trying to infuse my performance with the emotional weight it needs to win over the audience, as well as the formidable judging panel we're sure to face."

"Well, it worked on me," he says smiling. He really is adorable. If she weren't so hung up on his girlfriend, she could see herself falling for his goofy charm all over again. He tries to pull her into a hug. "If you ever need to talk or anything, I still want to be your friend."

"Thanks, Finn. I really appreciate it. That's very sweet of you to say." They've reached the door and she's trying to make a quick exit. The guilt she feels is rocking her stomach and she would prefer to vomit out of Finn's sight. "I've got to go."

"I'll see you tomorrow! You're going to be great!"

"Thank you," she mumbles. Of course Quinn isn't waiting by her car. It was stupid to indulge herself in the heart-breaking fantasy, in that moment and over the past several weeks. She could just attach herself to Finn, or Noah, or any other boy in Glee—at least she'd have a chance. Instead she's allowed herself to become completely absorbed in this mess of a situation that will never lead to anything other than crying in her car and a chart-topping album of heart wrenching ballads. Her own lyrics wind through her mind the rest of the evening as she perfects the performance that will not win her Quinn Fabray's heart, but will definitely win her team the Regionals trophy they deserve.

* * *

><p>She's glad they're performing last. Last means they will be the freshest in the judges' minds when it comes time to deliberate and will make the biggest impression. They will be the grand finale and they will be remembered. It's also nice because it means she gets to watch Kurt perform with the Warblers. She grins at Kurt his entire performance, trying to give him the boost of confidence his shaking hands and nervous smile show he needs. But as wonderful as he is, New Directions is about to blow Dalton out of the water.<p>

Her eyes meet Quinn's as she glances at Finn to her left and Quinn glance is cold and unfriendly. She looks at Rachel as if she's looking at a stranger and Rachel feels her chest seize and her eyes burn. Quinn's fingers are woven through Finn's and resting on his thigh and he leans over and whispers in her ear. She smiles, briefly, and her gaze shifts back to the performance on stage.

This is the worst part. Knowing they're together, while agonizing, is not nearly as painful as watching Finn trace the curve of her neck or pecking her cheek and even that sight is preferable to imagining what Quinn thinks or feels when Finn's hands are tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Does she think of Rachel in those moments? Maybe she pretends it's Rachel's body next to hers with her arm slung around her waist. But then again, maybe she doesn't and maybe this is the way she's wanted it to be for weeks. Maybe Rachel was just a quick deviation and-

It doesn't matter. What matters now is the competition and winning and getting that trip to Nationals, no matter what.

As she waits in the wings for her cue to make her way to center stage, she swears she feels a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She turns to find Quinn, who has already begun a hasty retreat.

"Quinn, wait!" She hisses, but Quinn's is already clustered with the rest of the group upstage and Rachel is left to wonder what she could have possibly wanted to say minutes before the performance that she couldn't have said as they filed on stage.

Before she can devote any more time to attempting to decipher Quinn's motivations, a booming voice introduces New Directions and her legs are carrying her to center stage of their own will. She freezes under the spotlight, just for a moment, and lays her hand on the microphone in front of her. Her heart is hammering away in her chest. This is what stage fright must be like. She's never been nervous in front of a crowd before, but now, with nearly a thousand people watching as she sings her own words and expresses something so personal…it's certainly not the same as belting out a song written by someone else. There's more to lose, and it's not just a gold plated trophy.

She takes a deep breath, feels her ribs expand as she tries to open all of her body to the air she's drawing in, and nods to the accompaniment. The piano begins and when her mouth opens the right note sails through the house and she knows it will be okay.

At the bridge she holds her money note and the tears that have threatened to ruin her carefully applied makeup begin to fall. She knows that they'll be invisible to anyone not within the first three rows of the audience, but she's disappointed that even here and now, onstage in the heart of a competition, Quinn Fabray still has top billing in her mind over her performance.

The last note disappears to nothing but a memory of sound and the crowd leaps up to applaud. They blow the competition out of the water with Loser Like Me, and when the announcer hands over the trophy, it hits her immediately what this means. They're going to New York. Her dreams are coming true. Things are happening and for the first time in days she's hopeful and excited. Everyone is screaming and hugging and when Puck pulls her off the ground she really feels like she's a _part_ of something. She knows that she doesn't need Quinn to be happy of course, but it's nice to have confirmation.

* * *

><p>It must be a victory induced hallucination, she thinks as she drives up the driveway and sees Quinn Fabray, still in her teal competition dress, perched on her stoop.<p>

"Can I come in?"

Rachel considers striding through the front door without so much as a glance in Quinn's direction, but the pathetic magnetism that drags her into this trap over and over compels her to allow Quinn to follow her inside.

"What can I do for you, Quinn?"

"I'm not here about the song," Quinn says, her voice a shaky shadow of itself. "I'm here to say, god," she clears her throat. "You're right."

"Excuse me?" Rachel chokes. "I must have been momentarily projected into an alternate reality. What did you just say?"

"Everything you said in the auditorium that afternoon…you were right."

"I know," Rachel replies in an effort to remain calm and collected, "but why are you sitting in my living room telling me what I am already perfectly aware of when you could be sitting at home devising more ways to humiliate and disgrace me?"

"Look, I'm here to apologize, but if you don't want to hear it I can just go home."

"No," Rachel says. "Stay. I want to hear what you have to say." She can hear her own voice and the anger in her words. She knows that some of it is sincere, but the rest is a front, a pathetic defense mechanism that she's sure Quinn has been using all her life.

"You're right. Everything you said was right. I don't know why I'm telling you this at all…maybe it's the song you sang today. You sounded incredible." Rachel nods in encouragement as her stomach churns. "You touched something in me with that and it's something I've kept inside for a long time—I'm not even sure I'm ready for it now but everything you sang today, about your good not being good enough and needing to get it right—that's what I guess I'm doing now."

"So you _are_ gay," Rachel confirms. She's not quite ready to be sympathetic.

"I'm absolutely terrified," she confides.

"What could you possibly be so afraid of, Quinn? You're the most popular girl in school. You're beautiful, smart, and brave. You really think people won't accept you? Out of anyone they would accept you!"

"You are so naïve," Quinn rolls her eyes and in an instant Rachel feels like a child. Maybe Quinn was the most popular girl in school, but that was before, well, everything. But Rachel means it—she is brave and bright and incredibly gorgeous. Who would bully _Quinn Fabray _for being gay? "My parents threw me out of the house for getting pregnant a year ago. You really think they won't throw me out for being a dyke? My mother finally, finally can look me in the eye and I'm not ready to give that up."

"Why do you care what your parents think? They've been nothing but awful to you. They don't deserve you!"

"You don't get it, but I guess that's not your fault. You parents love you so much. They probably threw you a coming out party when you told them."

"Well…" she starts sheepishly before her voice trails off.. She doesn't meet Quinn's eyes.

"Wait. Your dads don't know? You haven't told your _two gay dads _that you're gay?"

What her thoughts about Quinn had meant about herself, about her sexuality, never seemed important. Who could resist looking at Quinn Fabray? It wasn't rocket science. With two gay dads and a bevy of adult gay friends she put the pieces together easily and never considered it worth mentioning.

"I'm not—I'm not exactly sure that I'm gay. I mean, remember last year with all of the tension and chemistry between Finn and me…"

"Rachel, be honest. Would you have been interested in Finn if he and I weren't dating at the time? It was obvious even then what you were doing."

"Oh yeah?" Rachel crosses her arms over her chest. "So what was I doing?"

"If you really need me to lay it out for you, I will. You went after Finn because you knew you couldn't have me and if you couldn't, no one could."

"That is…that's utterly untrue and ridiculous."

"Really?" Quinn smiles wryly. "Then why are you shrieking?"

Rachel flushes furiously. "Even if it was true, which it isn't, it would have been hideously ineffective and proves nothing in relation to my sexuality."

"Rachel, I've seen the way you look at me. You can barely keep your hands off me. I know you're gay, all right? It doesn't matter. When you eventually tell your dads you know they'll support you. I don't have that same security."

"But—"

"Listen, I still have a year and a half in Lima and I want to come out on top because this, the cheerleading and the status and homecoming royalty, is all I'm ever going to have. I told you in the auditorium; I'm not destined for bigger things like you are. I need to be Prom Queen and I need to have the quarterback boyfriend. I need this, Rachel and being with you…being with you destroys any chance I have of securing the reputation I have worked so hard to maintain."

The Quinn in front of her now isn't screaming, or talking down to her icily. She's confiding so much fear and insecurity that Rachel starts to wonder what the trick is. This just feels so out of character—this isn't the Quinn who an hour earlier ripped her to shreds in the auditorium.

"But, and I can't believe I'm telling you this, I want to be with you. The time we spend together between classes and afterschool is the time I look forward to every day." It sounds practiced, as if Quinn has rehearsed on the way over, but Rachel takes in the shaking words and wills herself to stay silent. "I _like _spending time with you, but being with you—just you—and telling everyone what I am isn't a sacrifice I'm willing to make, but it's killing me inside. I want to be with you, but it isn't possible because you want so much more than I can give you. I mean, you want to be my _girlfriend_, Rachel."

She can't deny it and she doesn't try.

They sit in the silence as Quinn's admission hangs in the air.

"Okay, so I guess I should go." Quinn rises awkwardly, casting a worried glance Rachel's way. "I just didn't feel right ending this without telling you how I—"

"What if I change what I want?" She interrupts. The perfect solution hits her suddenly.

"What? You said you wanted all or nothing. You said what we're doing now isn't enough."

"What if I change my mind? What if some is better than none?"

"No, some doesn't work. I've treated you terribly. What do you mean for now? I don't understand," Quinn shakes her head and Rachel starts, voice quivering with the excitement of her new plan. And the words tumble out of her mouth.

"You said you can't be with me because you need to be Prom Queen to secure your status, and while I think that is completely ridiculous I can't argue that it's important to you But what about after Prom? After that you'll have it all and you _will_ be on top. If you're on top, you can do whatever you want. What if we continue as we were until after you're crowned Prom Queen? After that we'll only have a year left in Lima and we can use the time we have now to plan our respective comings-out and—"

"Rachel, this is completely ridiculous. You're suggesting a deadline."

"Exactly. Not that Finn isn't a wonderful guy, but we both know you're using him for votes. After you win you'll have no use for him—"

"That's awful—"

"But true."

"I guess, yeah." Quinn shifts guiltily but Rachel continues.

"So after Prom we can be together. Until then we'll see each other in secret, like we have been but now that you've revealed your true feelings maybe we can develop something deeper than our strictly libidinal interactions."

Quinn eyes her uneasily but Rachel knows the cogs are turning. "I can't believe I'm even considering this. This is literally the most selfish thing I've ever heard. You're saying that you'll go along playing second fiddle to Finn until Prom, after which you expect me to dump Finn and publicly date you."

"I know it sounds awful but it could work. We both get what we want. _Everything_ we want." She takes Quinn's hand in hers and Quinn doesn't jerk away.

"It's diabolical," she claims, shaking her head. Rachel inhales, ready to defend her plan, but Quinn's words cut her off. "But I'm not entirely surprised. I've seen you fight tooth and nail for a three line solo in Glee Club."

"So you'll do it?"

"I'm willing to negotiate," she says simply, and Rachel can't believe this might actually happen. "Nationals. Finn and I break up before Nationals and you and I figure out whatever we are after the competition."

"No. Absolutely not," she protests. "We cannot afford to have Finn emotionally handicapped during our performance. We need him at his happiest and most confident—"

"Oh please, the minute I end it he'll start chasing after you. You know how it works."

Rachel considers this logic and nods. "All right. Nationals it is. Until then we continue as we are but…"

"But?"

"I'd…I want to be more than just sex to you, Quinn. The statements you've made about your feelings for me today…I can't just pretend you haven't said them. I want to have emotional intimacy with you as well as physical. Maybe some of the time we spend alone together we can spend getting to know each other better?"

Quinn is silent for a long moment, as if the weight of the conversation is finally settling on her shoulders. "Okay," she says finally. "But we need to start slow."

Rachel nods in agreement. "I understand completely." She'll begin compiling a list of appropriate discussion topics, as well as behaviors for their public and private interactions. It will be one of her best PowerPoint presentations to date.

"So, I guess we're agreed? We're…we're sort of dating now, aren't we?" Quinn's eyes are wide and Rachel is sure that she's paler than usual.

"You know, if you've changed your mind you can still back out. I understand." Her voice is soft and she tries to keep the tone of disappointment out of her statement.

Quinn shakes her head. "I want to do this, Rach. I can't explain it but…it's worth a shot." Rachel wants to throw her arms around Quinn's neck and pull her close for a series of passionate kisses, but she settles for a hug when Quinn's arms wrap around her waist. Their bodies are flush against each other and Rachel is acutely aware of the smell of Quinn's hair and the way Quinn's breasts feel against her own.

"I just…I have to ask one more question," Rachel mumbles nervously. "In the auditorium when you said you and Finn were _together…_are you sleeping with him?"

"What?" Quinn's voice is a sharp bark. "No! Of course not!"

"Oh…because that's what I thought you meant, you know, when I asked and…"

"Look, last time I had sex with a guy I ended up with one big mess on my hands. I'm not about to take a risk like that again any time soon. I thought you meant to ask if Finn and I officially dating, which, yes we are. For all intents and purposes he is my boyfriend and I'm his girlfriend."

"But you aren't having sex?"

Quinn blushes. "No. We…god Rachel I really don't want to talk about this—"

"If we're going to be together in any capacity Quinn, I need your honesty."

"Fine. We…fool around a little, but he's never…he doesn't…he hasn't touched me the way you do, okay?" Quinn is positively crimson and Rachel almost can't stifle a laugh. "And it's not like he can…focus long enough for me to touch him in any way that would be equivalent to—Rachel stop laughing!"

"I can't!" She gasps. "I just…I know the face he makes and…" she's lost in another fit of giggles.

"You really are cute, you know," Quinn murmurs as she drops a kiss on Rachel's forehead. "I'm—I'm glad we're doing this."

Rachel looks up and grins. "It's certainly going to be something," she promises, settling her head in the crook of Quinn's neck. "This is definitely the start of something great. I just know it."


	9. Author's Note

Hey everyone! This is just an alert to say that I've re-written chapter 8 of "In My Secret Life", so if you have this story on alert, or have already read chapter 8, please re-read it, as there have been key elements added. I hope you enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

_[A/N] As always, thank you for your patience and feedback! I'm sorry I don't post very often at present (and that my updates are often short), but please know that I'm always writing bits of this and planning out where it's going. I really appreciate your continued interest!_

Chapter 9

It comes up for the first time two weeks later; the big _why_. It's been two weeks of sneaking around, secret smiles, and stolen kisses. Rachel has to admit that keeping everything under wraps is challenging, but the fear of getting caught and the forbidden nature of the affair intrigues and arouses her. It's as if she's staring in her very own romantic comedy and the plot is just now thickening. Two weeks have passed and she's learning to share and compromise. She tries not to complain when Quinn has to leave right after glee, or when she can't meet her in the empty choir room during study hall. She never mentions Finn.

And she knows Quinn is trying. She sees it when Quinn answers her questions and indulges her by smiling when Rachel gives a compliment.

They talk about music, and books, and movies. She learns that Quinn started taking piano lessons when she was six and hasn't missed a week since then. She's seen Quinn's trophies for competitions where she's breezed her way through sonatas and concertos. They stand alongside spelling bee trophies and art show ribbons—but they're all crowded behind cheerleading and gymnastics awards. Rachel doesn't ask why.

They talk about their childhoods. Well, Rachel talks about hers and Quinn listens gamely.

"…And that's why I'm no longer allowed within five hundred feet of the Lima Community Theater."

"Come on, no one would allow their child to audition for a production of Rent at ten years old."

"I was a very strong-willed child."

"And you thought it was best to audition with a striptease?" Quinn raises her eyebrow into a perfect arch.

"It wasn't a _striptease_," Rachel corrects. "I just happened to think that a tear away suit covering a sequined bikini demonstrated a level of commitment to the character of Mimi that would impress the directors."

"And _Baby Got Back_ was the best song choice?"

"It was very popular then!"

"It came out two years before you were born," Quinn argues with a smirk.

"Well, that just shows the song has stood the test of time."

They're lying on Rachel's bed in the shadow of the late afternoon sun and Quinn's hands are lazily roaming up and down Rachel's bare side.

"Why me?"

The question catches her off guard. They had just been laughing about Rachel's first most embarrassing moment and now the tone has shifted. Her voice is small and quiet. Quinn's gaze is intense and she's biting her lower lip—a sign, Rachel has learned, that she's deep in thought.

"What do you mean, why you?"

"Why are you interested in me at all? Why do you have your sights set on me when I was nothing but horrible to you all this time?"

Oh. This conversation. She expected to have it with her dads and had started to prepare for the inevitable discussion when her relationship was dramatically revealed. She didn't expect to have it with Quinn first.

"I—I don't know. I just do."

"That doesn't make any sense."

They lie in an awkward silence until Rachel clears her throat.

"I think I've always been attracted to you, but I didn't have the words for it until last year. And I didn't really see how incredible you were until you joined glee. I guess…I guess it's because I've always known that under the Cheerios uniform and indifferent attitude there's a girl who just wants to be understood and appreciated and I understand how that feels. Of course you're beautiful and you have perfect features and an inarguably attractive physique, but it's about so much more than that."

Rachel watches Quinn's focus shift from her to the bedspread.

"I guess I just think that underneath everything else, you're a lot like me." She doesn't elaborate and Quinn doesn't ask her to. She pulls Rachel closer and kisses the top of her head.

"There are worse people to be like," she says. Rachel takes it as a compliment, whether or not it was intended as one, and settles in under Quinn's chin.

"Now you," she instructs. "Why do you want to be with me?"

"Pass."

"You can't _pass_," she objects. "I answered the question and now it's your turn. Why do you want to be with me? With all those nicknames and unflattering drawings in the bathroom I always thought you found me repulsive."

She feels Quinn's fingers against the nape of her neck and relaxes into the touch, but the silence before her makes her feel uneasy.

"You...you don't think I'm repulsive, do you?"

"Rachel, if I thought you were repulsive I wouldn't have done any of the things I did to you twenty minutes ago. You're gorgeous and you know it. I think you're very attractive, but that's not why I want to be with you."

Rachel can sense Quinn trying to sidestep out of the discussion, and she doesn't know if she should let her. She could keep pressing for an answer, or she could change the subject. It's so hard not to push or pry.

"So why did you call me those names and draw those pictures and say all of those terrible things about me?"

She's surprised when Quinn doesn't stand up and walk out of the room, and she's even more shocked when Quinn opens her mouth to respond.

"Because you terrified me, Rachel. You terrified me in every possible way. You make me feel things that I've been taught are grounds to be sent to hell since birth. Then last year you were chasing after my boyfriend and he chose you. It hurt that he picked someone else, but it was worse that it was _you_ because I...I was so jealous of both of you. You got to have the hotshot quarterback boyfriend, and Finn got _you_. The way I felt when you sang or laughed or looked at me was incredibly scary. I had to negate it somehow."

"That's...remarkably astute."

"Yeah. I've been seeing a therapist since I moved back home. You come up sometimes. Mostly the way I treated you."

"Is that where this sudden burst of honesty is coming from?"

Quinn shrugs and tucks a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear. "I guess. I'm just trying to be more open. I know it means a lot to you."

Rachel presses her lips to Quinn's. "I appreciate it. It does mean a lot to me. Thank you."

They lie cuddled together for a little longer before Rachel speaks up again.

"What were you like when you were a little girl?"

Quinn sighs against her and Rachel wonders what line she's crossed now.

"I told you about my childhood, but what about yours?"

"I'm working on being more open, but I'm not there yet. It's kind of hard to explain."

"Oh Quinn, it can't be that difficult."

"Really, Rach, I can't. Not yet. Some other time I'll tell you, but I'm not ready for that."

Rachel considers this for a moment before pressing a kiss to Quinn's shoulder.

"Okay," she agrees. "If you ever change your mind and want to talk, you know I'm happy to listen."

"This is exactly why I like you," Quinn says, tracing patterns on Rachel's skin. "No one else listens to me like you do. No one else has ever really cared like you do, even when you shouldn't have. You offered me a place when I didn't have one because for some reason you think about people and you think about me."

"That's very sweet," Rachel says hoarsely. Her voice catches in her throat. This is so much more than she ever hoped.

* * *

><p>Of course, school is another story.<p>

It still hurts to watch Quinn hanging on Finn's arm. It's nice to spend time together after school or during the weekends, but it doesn't make up for the sharp jolt of jealousy she feels when she watches the two campaign for Prom royalty around school. But when Quinn turns to give her the slightest of glances, a reassuring smile or a subtle eyebrow raise, it stings a little less. She brings herself back to the moments they spend wrapped in each other and comforts herself with the knowledge that as soon as that crown lands on Quinn's head, she won't have to hide in the shadows anymore.

It can be confusing, this whole 'girlfriend but not' role she's playing. With Jesse or Finn she knew exactly what to do. She could leave little romantic notes, or propose dates, or sing tearful, emotional ballads in the choir room. With Quinn, she doesn't know how to show that she's thinking of her and manage to stay undetected, not to mention the care she has to take to make sure she isn't overwhelming Quinn by coming on too strong too quickly. A note dropped into her locker, a bag of cookies exchanged during lunch, a mix cd slipped into her backpack—all planned, created, and executed with the utmost care and precision. It seems to work. Occasionally she finds a note in her own locker, or a handful of origami stars in the pocket of her bag.

"How do you make these?" Rachel had asked the first time one of the paper stars found its way into her purse. They were sitting in the public library and studying together in the 670s—a spot they had claimed as a hideaway. It was secluded and always empty. Who would look for information about paper processing or metal-working?

"It's easy," Quinn whispered back. She tore a neat strip of paper out of her notebook and began to fold and shape it between her fingers. "You just fold it over and over like this, right? Okay, now press your fingers against the points like that, and poke the sides so it pops…" Rachel followed her directions on her own strip with Quinn's hands hovering over her own. "There!" It's not as neat or tight as Quinn's star, but it has a similar shape. They deemed it a good first effort, and Rachel resolved to practice. Of course, it's more fun when Quinn makes the stars for her, rather than making them herself. Quinn's are all different colors and sizes. Sometimes she finds forty tiny ones strung together on fishing line, or a colorful handful of button sized stars appear on pillow when she returns from the bathroom or to get a drink of water. One day, after she surrenders the closing number to Mercedes at the Night of Neglect benefit, there's an enormous star-gold, glittering and the size of a dinner plate-hanging in her locker. There's no note, no explanation, no acknowledgement of it later, but that's Quinn.

Rachel thinks she can manage the secretive exchange of affection. It's like a game, and the more she plays the more fun it becomes, but she still doesn't know all the rules.

Quinn's birthday is next week, and every time she thinks about it, a fresh wave of anxiety washes over her. What does she do? What _can _she do? When she asks, Quinn tells her not to do anything.

"It's not a big deal, Rach. I'll probably just go out to dinner with Mom and Finn, open the same Macy's gift card I get every year, and that's it."

"But I _want _to do something for you."

"Save your money and your time. It's really not worth it."

She knows better than to take this advice and starts planning. Operation Secret Birthday Celebration is underway.

She doesn't mention Quinn's birthday at all over the course of the week, and when Friday rolls around, it takes even more effort not to reveal her plan. Brittany and Santana have decorated her locker, and Finn leads the glee club in a rousing, perfectly harmonized mashup of "Birthday" by the Beatles and "It's Your Birthday" by R. Kelly. Rachel burns with jealousy as Quinn's cheeks pinken and she covers and embarrassed grin with both hands. _She _should be the one making Quinn smile like -that. It isn't fair and it just motivates her further to make tonight incredible.

She walks up the driveway with a smile playing on her lips and butterflies fluttering in her stomach. This is going to be perfect. She lays her finger on the doorbell, hearing the chimes echo in the house and waits for Quinn to open the door and smile the same charming, bashful grin she saw in the choir room.

* * *

><p>The door flies open a moment later and Quinn looks panicked and angry. "What are you doing here?" she snaps.<p>

Rachel feels like she's been slapped.

"I just thought that in light of our recent foray into a secret relationship, I should do something special for your birthday. Something a girlfriend would do."

Quinn sighs and shuts the door behind her as Rachel's eyes fill with tears. She's so embarrassed and she knows the bunch of balloons in her hand looks sad and pathetic.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says. Her voice softens and she wraps her arms around Rachel. "It's just...Finn's here and…you know the rules. It's just bad timing. You know where I'd rather be."

"I know." She feels so stupid.

"But maybe we can do something tonight?"

"Well, I did put together a fairly elaborate plan for this evening in the event that you would say something like that."

* * *

><p>Rachel picks her up at 8. They spend the evening in the park drinking stolen champagne out plastic flutes looking up at the stars and cuddling together in the early spring air.<p>

"A shooting star!" Rachel exclaims from her spot in Quinn's arms. "Make a wish!"

"Only if you make one, too," Quinn declares.

They both screw their eyes shut and Rachel holds her breath. She wishes for patience and hope. She wishes for Quinn to find the courage to let herself follow her heart.

"So..." Rachel presses. "What did you wish for?"

Quinn takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

"I wished for you," she whispers. "I wished that when I'm strong enough, you'll still love me like I love you right now."

"Did you just…" Rachel asks in disbelief. Quinn nods.

Rachel lifts her chin and whispers, "I love you, too." She brushes her lips over Quinn's, tasting the tartness of champagne and the sweetness of Quinn's lipgloss on her own tongue. It's a perfect moment as Quinn slides her hands down Rachel's back and spreads her carefully on the ground. She hovers over her and Rachel relishes in the soft kisses she places along her jaw.

Rachel's hands wrap around Quinn's neck and pull her close. "Happy birthday, Quinn," she murmurs against her ear before snaking her tongue out to capture an earlobe.

And there it is, the soft, pink blush she can make out in the moonlight. Quinn is smiling and flushing just for her as they lie together, making love under the stars.


	11. Chapter 11

[A/N] This chapter is an excuse to write smut and I promise we will return to the plot soon. Also "A Case of You" belongs to Joni Mitchell and not to me. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think of this piece.

* * *

><p>Their bodies are flush against each other behind the bushes in the dark, silent park as Quinn moves against her. Her thigh rests between Rachel's open legs and creates a delicious friction that drags ragged sighs out of her mouth.<p>

Rachel's hands inch under the hem of Quinn's shirt and marvel and how quickly she's come to know this body and its curves. She knows exactly where Quinn's hips dip inward to form her tiny waist and where the ribs bloom outward. She knows the soft warm weight of Quinn's breasts in her palms and the tight rise of Quinn's nipples that her fingertips can't resist stroking and gently tugging. She grins against Quinn's lips when she hears the sound she anticipates: a light and breathy sigh.

"No," Quinn takes Rachel's hands in her own and secures them around her waist. "Let me."

"N-no? Doesn't it feel good?" Her eyebrows furrow worriedly.

"Yeah, of course it does, but I want to touch you."

"But it's your birthday."

"I know, which is why you should respect my request."

The logic is sound and Rachel definitely isn't complaining, especially when Quinn's hands start effortlessly unbuttoning her shirt. She shrugs out of the top and feels her nipples stiffen against the fabric of her bra in the cool night air.

Quinn's strong thigh is still rocking against Rachel's body and Rachel's hips rise and fall of their own volition to make contact. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, and Quinn takes the hint. Quinn kisses her way down Rachel's jaw, to the curve of her neck, settling comfortably in the crook of her shoulder. Rachel mewls as Quinn's teeth nibble at the tender, sensitive skin and this gentle teasing becomes almost too much. She's rocking and writhing against Quinn, already begging for more contact.

"Shhh," Quinn soothes. "Just wait. I promise I'll make it worth it."

Rachel swallows hard and nods.

Quinn's fingers gently trace the outline of her bra, from strap to cup to band, and Rachel wishes she could tear off the garment and feel the warmth of Quinn's hands on her breasts, but Quinn is moving so unbearably slowly. But finally, finally, her fingertips work their way under the strap and lift it off her body. Quinn's hands cup the sides of her breasts and bring them closer together before dragging her tongue across Rachel's collarbone, then down between the cleavage she's created. Rachel moans at the slick heat trailing between her breasts and lets her nails run up and down Quinn's back. They catch on the fabric and bunch Quinn's dress and all she wants is to touch that ivory skin and feel its heat.

"Please, just let me take this off," she begs. Quinn nods and reaches around for the zipper. She shrugs her dress to her waist and in an instant their breasts are pressed together. The contact sends a rush of warmth and wetness between Rachel's legs. She can feel the throb of her arousal and the pulse rings in her ears. She moves more furiously against Quinn and moans loudly against her neck.

Their lips meet again and Rachel surrenders into the sensation. Quinn's lips hold hers for a moment before settling into a steady rhythm of push and pull. Rachel can smell Quinn's perfume and her salon shampoo as a breeze wafts by and the sudden rush of Quinn's scent draws her deeper into the kiss.

She's only slightly aware of Quinn's fingers dancing across the flat plane of her stomach, running across her hips, and slipping underneath the waistband of her skirt. When those fingertips make contact with the skin just above the mound of coarse, dark curls, Rachel gasps and bucks her hips.

"Just…now, please," she whines. "I want to be naked for you. Just touch me, Quinn."

Quinn lets out a short burst of breath and Rachel sees she's caught her off guard.

"That was incredibly hot," she growls. "Do it again."

"Do what again?" She teases.

"Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need, Rachel, just like that."

"I want you to take off my skirt and my underwear, run your fingers up my legs, and touch me."

They're both blushing, neither used to 'dirty talk', but it's easier in the dark.

"Where?"

"Here." Rachel takes Quinn's hand in hers and presses it against the soaked crotch of her panties.

"Oh god, Rach," Quinn groans, leaning her head against Rachel's shoulder. "You're…I'm so turned on right now."

"Me too."

"I know. I can feel it."

"Let me feel you?"

Quinn takes Rachel's hand and guides it up the front of her dress, still hanging from her hips. Rachel's fingers meet a scant bit of lace before finding Quinn, hot and incredibly wet, against her.

"Quinn…I want…I need…let me inside."

She shifts and suddenly Rachel's hand is at her side and Quinn's head is now resting on one of Rachel's toned thighs.

"You first."

Rachel spreads her legs wider and feels the chill of the night against the wetness on her thighs, but the discomfort doesn't last long. Quinn's thumb finds the rise of her swollen clit and starts rubbing slow, deliberate circles that only leave Rachel begging for more.

"I need you inside me, baby, please."

Quinn freezes. "Did you just call me 'baby'?"

"It slipped out, I'm sorry." Pet names are probably reserved for the real relationship. Damn it, she's ruined the moment.

"No, it's okay." Quinn kisses her thighs, her hips, her curls. "I like it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Say it again."

"You'll have to make me," Rachel teases. "You broke my focus."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Quinn smiles. "Where were we?"

"I think right…" she positions Quinn's fingers against her entrance, "here."

"Is that right?"

Rachel nods.

"Well, if you say so."

Two fingers slip inside easily and Rachel can't hold back the gasp or the moan that fall from her lips as Quinn's fingers bury themselves to the hilt inside her and her muscles close around them tightly and draw them deeper. She shudders against Quinn's hand and pushes herself down on the fingers inside of her.

"Slow down, Rach. Take it easy." Quinn's back to teasing her clit with the other hand, but her mouth is moving inward from her thigh and her breath is hot on the sensitive flesh. The moment her tongue hits home, Rachel's hand flies to her mouth to muffle the scream building inside her.

Quinn tongue starts to move faster and her fingers are reaching and curling in all the right places. She's pulling them back and thrusting them forward with dexterity Rachel never imagined was possible and then…

"There. There. Stay there," she gasps. Her hands are pulling Quinn's long blonde hair and her eyes are screwed shut so tightly she's seeing spots. The world is slipping and falling out of orbit and colors are crashing around her as Quinn's fingers hit that spot over and over again. Her breath comes and goes is ragged bursts of "Oh Quinn, oh baby, please" and "yes, right there."

It's overpowering, unlike anything she's ever felt before. Her legs are shaking and her feet are tingling and even her palms are sweating as she becomes putty in Quinn's hands. They're outdoors in a public park and she understands that keeping her voice down is important, but it's impossible to control. She can hear her moans echoing around their entwined bodies and she knows that her voice will be hoarse the next day, but she can't stop. Quinn's fingers have found some sort of magical spot that's robbed her of any control.

She feels pressure building and coiling inside her and for a split second she feels like she might have to ask Quinn to stop so she can find a bathroom, but in an instant the pressure is gone and she feels a rush of liquid gushing between her legs and it won't stop. It feels like an orgasm, but this is so different, and it feels so good.

"Oh my god, Rachel," Quinn gasps. Her fingers are still moving inside, and her thumb has replaced her tongue's coaxing as Rachel nears her climax. She calls out Quinn's name as the shocks rip through her and send her hips bucking wildly. Quinn's lips, still limed with Rachel's wetness, find hers and she kisses her gently as she descends from her high, with Quinn's fingers still lightly teasing and stroking while the last of the aftershocks fade to nothing.

Her limp, exhausted body settles on the blanket and it's only then that she feels the cold wetness against her skin.

"I think I ruined this blanket," she declares.

"Yeah…I wanted to ask about that, but I didn't want to embarrass you. Is that…is that normal?"

"I mean, I think so. It's never happened to me before, but I've read about it."

"Oh." Quinn quietly wipes her mouth on one of the napkins from the long forgotten picnic.

"Are you…are you disgusted? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…and all over your face…"

"Rachel, it's okay. I promise." Quinn lies beside her and Rachel settles against her still naked chest. "It was kind of hot, actually. I mean, it was just like this raw power ripped through you and then you swelled and then…wow."

"I've never felt anything like that in my life," Rachel admits. Her fingers twirl a lock of Quinn's hair around her finger as her breath calms. She presses her lips to Quinn's sternum and sighs contentedly. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Quinn says as she curls around Rachel. "I really, really like touching you."

"Does that scare you?"

"When I really think about it, I guess. But when we're just lying here together I couldn't be less afraid. This feels so much more right than anything I've ever had."

"What about when I touch you? Does that scare you?"

Quinn laughs softly and shakes her head. "Definitely not."

"So it doesn't scare you when I do this?" Rachel spreads her fingers across Quinn's breast and strokes slowly up toward her nipples.

"No," she confirms on a breathy sigh.

"Or this?" She flicks her tongue lightly against the smooth, warm skin pulled against the taut muscle of Quinn's bicep.

"Ohh," she shudders. "No. That's okay, too."

Rachel rocks her body and shifts her weight over Quinn. She lowers her face closer and brushes her lips against Quinn's, parted and waiting. As she presses her hips against Quinn's dress, crumpled around her waist, she secures her hands in Quinn's hair and draws her close. She swivels slow circles and whispers, "and this?"

"You are so cruel, Rach," Quinn groans, rocking her hips up and Rachel feels the pressure against her own reignited arousal.

"So you're not scared?" She teases.

"Uh-uh."

"And what if I do this?" Her fingers push aside the damp lace of Quinn's panties and meet sticky wet heat.

"Oh…god Rachel. Please," she begs. That's all the encouragement Rachel needs as she slips a finger inside and deftly curls it against her walls. As her thumb settles on the rise of Quinn's clit, she feels the sharpness of Quinn's teeth digging into her shoulder. A few strokes of her thumb and the slightest crooking of her fingers and a moment later Quinn is coming undone in her hand. She's silent and shaking against Rachel's body, mewling and whimpering as her orgasm rips through her and Rachel breathes in wonder that she can make someone so seemingly strong fall apart so easily.

* * *

><p>"Do you want me to drop you off down the street like usual?" The street is dark, illuminated only by the streetlamp on the corner, but Rachel's fairly certain that Quinn won't want to risk being seen climbing out of this car. She's rolled to a stop three houses down, just like she usually does.<p>

"No, you can pull into the driveway. It's nearly midnight. The odds that she'll notice me walking into the house are slim to none."

"You're right. She's probably asleep by now. My dads only stay up past 11 for special occasions, like New Year's or the Tony Awards."

Quinn shakes her head. "I'm sure she's awake, but I highly doubt she's lucid." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Again."

"I don't really understand." Does Quinn's mom sleepwalk or…

"I don't want to talk about, Rach. We've had a beautiful night together and I don't want to spoil it with an episode of Fabray Family Therapy."

"But the way you're talking about her right now…I'm worried about you. Will you be safe here tonight?"

Quinn waves away the concern. "It's fine. It's just...she really likes her gin and tonics. By now she's probably had a few. I don't necessarily want to spend the last moments of my birthday dealing with that."

Rachel lays a hand over Quinn's. "Then don't; spend them with me. It's 11:59 so you have one more minute before your birthday is officially over. How do you want to use it?"

In an instant Quinn's hands are on her cheeks, pulling her close and kissing her fiercely on the lips. 30 seconds tick by, then 60, and then it's 10 minutes into Saturday and their lips are still pressed feverishly against each other.

"I know you have to go and that I'll see you on Monday, " Rachel gasps with her hands over Quinn's clothed breasts, "but I don't want you to go inside."

"I don't want to go either," Quinn whispers hotly.

"Then don't. Come back to my house. Sleep over."

"Rach, I can't. It's…"

"It's what? You said it yourself: your mom won't notice."

"But your dads…"

"My fathers have no idea what's going on between us and even if they did, I can't imagine they would have a problem with you staying over. Please Quinn, just say yes."

"Rachel," she sighs. The sound travels straight through her and she feels goosebumps rise on her arms. "You're making it so hard to say no."

"Then why say no? Just come over. It's not like it's the first time."

After a long pause Quinn nods. "Okay. Let's do it. I'm just going to text my mom and tell her I'm staying at Brittany's, just to be safe."

Rachel can't control the grin that spreads across her face. She has the story she'll tell her own parents figured out. All she can think about is lying in her own bed curled around Quinn Fabray and waking up wrapped in each other's arms.

They tiptoe up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky top step. Rachel's heart pounds in her chest and she swears that its beating is loud enough to wake her fathers.

They've spent plenty of time in Rachel's bed over the last few weeks but in the dark of the night with their naked bodies pressed together as they whisper under the covers, everything feels much more intimate.

"Thank you for tonight, Rachel. I had a really incredible time," Quinn murmurs as they settle against each other. Rachel feels safe, wrapped and Quinn's arms and feeling the warmth of her breath against the back of her neck.

"It was my pleasure. I had to do something for your birthday. I just wish I could have done more."

"What you did was plenty."

"I just…I wish I could have done something like what Finn did in the choir room. I wish I could have done something publicly or sung to you at school or something."

"Well, then sing to me now," Quinn offers.

"It's not the same." Rachel sighs and wraps her hands around Quinn's. "I-I want to be your girlfriend so badly, Quinn. So badly that I can hardly stand it."

She wills herself not to cry. It's been such a nice evening and she's not about to spoil it with tears. She expects Quinn to lay silently behind her and not acknowledge the comment.

"I want to be yours, too," Quinn whispers against her. Is that a quiver in her voice? "And I promise, Rachel, that the time will come when I'm ready to make that happen. I just need you to wait. Please."

Rachel nods and kisses Quinn's hands. "Okay."

"I love you."

The words shoot through her and warm her from the inside out.

"I love you, too."

The words hang heavily in the air until Quinn breaks the silence. "Will you please sing to me?

Rachel smiles sleepily. "What would you like me to sing?"

She feels Quinn shrug against her back. "Anything you want. I just want to hear your voice."

She launches into a hushed and slow _A Case of You _and feels Quinn relax against her. As she reaches the chorus Quinn's breath is slow and steady and Rachel lets her own eyes slip shut.


	12. Chapter 12

Rachel wakes up the next morning to find that at some point during the night, she and Quinn swapped positions and now her arms are wrapped around Quinn's waist and her own head rests against Quinn's back. Funny, she never saw herself as the big spoon. She considers leaping out of bed to prepare brunch and bring it back to bed, but the warmth of Quinn's body and the comfort of the blankets makes it next to impossible to do anything but snuggle closer and wrap herself even more tightly in the moment. She feels both excited and soothed with Quinn in her arms on a bright Saturday morning. It's so easy and comfortable to just lie here. She wonders if this has been a dream. There's no way this relationship of sorts could be working out so well, or that it could be this fulfilling. She worries that if she closes her eyes she'll open them and find herself alone. The thought alone forces her groggy eyes open. She scans Quinn's shoulders and back for unfamiliar marks and freckles, and observes the color of her hair. It's blonde, of course, but it's so much more. Some strands are so light they're almost white, and some are a rich caramel, while others are spun gold. They all blend harmoniously and Rachel gets lost in the tones.

Quinn rolls over a few minutes later and Rachel settles onto her bare chest. Quinn is mumbling something that sounds like "good morning," but it's impossible to tell when Quinn won't open her mouth. Rachel stretches up to press a kiss to her lips, but Quinn's hand flies to cover her mouth before Rachel can strike.

"Don't," she commands. "My breath is really, really bad."

Rachel laughs. "Oh come on, everyone has bad breath in the morning. I don't care."

"No, Rach. It's really bad. You don't get it. I-"

"I think I can handle it."

Rachel cuts her off with a kiss, and instantly regrets it.

That settles it. It's not a dream. If it were Quinn's breath would taste like peaches or a dewy summer morning or something equally cliché.

"Quinn Fabray, did something crawl into your mouth and die?"

"I told you so!" Quinn squeals, as much as Quinn _can _squeal (her voice and demeanor don't lend themselves easily to high pitched exclamations), and swats Rachel's hands away from her face. "You set yourself up!"

"You didn't work very hard to stop me. And now you're responsible for this horrifyingly foul taste in my mouth. Honestly I'm concerned that something might be rotting in your throat."

"Oh stop it," Quinn says. She's blushing furiously and burying back under the covers.

"I would if I could, Quinn, but I truly believe I've been poisoned. I don't know kinds of bacteria you've exposed me to-" but then Quinn's hands grab her foot and she screams as Quinn starts to tickle the soles of her feet and the backs of her knees. "Stop it!" She gasps. "I surrender! Your breath is perfect and normal and non-lethal just let me go!"

She's tickling Rachel's waist and Rachel can't help but writhe around in a fit of frustrated laughter. "Stop it, Quinn! I'm extremely ticklish!"

"I've noticed," Quinn says without stopping.

"Quinn, if you don't stop tickling me, I'm not responsible for whatever injuries you may sustain so it's in your best interest to-"

Quinn's fingers stop their relentless attack and _Oh. _Quinn's mouth closes hotly over her. This is much better than being tickled.

* * *

><p>They're flushed and warm as they lie cuddled together, completely immune now to each other's morning breath.<p>

"This is so nice," she announces.

"Yeah, it is," Quinn agrees. She presses a gentle kiss to Rachel's forehead and closes her eyes. "Where are your dads?"

"They're at the farmer's market. They usually spend the morning at the farmer's market and then spend the rest of the afternoon out." She considers this a moment before the significance occurs to her. "This is the first time we've ever had the opportunity to just…you know, _be,_ without worrying or checking the clock every ten minutes waiting for the moment to fall apart."

"We could stay like this all day," Quinn whispers, looking away. As much as Rachel wants to jump on the comment, she assumes that Quinn didn't mean to contribute that to the conversation. It's still a delicate push and pull and she's constantly reading Quinn's expressions and tones, trying to keep the peace and balance that has miraculously kept this, can she call it a relationship?, together.

The sound of her stomach growling pulls her out of her analysis and she glances at Quinn, who grins. "Hungry?" She asks.

"Maybe a little," she admits with defeat. She'd rather stay in bed in the nest they've created together than eat, but she can't deny the rumbling of her stomach.

"Good, because I'm starving."

Rachel raises an eyebrow in perfect imitation of Quinn. "But you just ate."

The color rises to Quinn's cheeks faster than Rachel thinks is healthy or normal. "That was incredibly crude!"

Rachel giggles behind her hand and Quinn smacks her with a pillow. "You think it's funny and you just don't want to admit it."

Quinn doesn't say anything but she dives under the blanket again, and before she can get a hand on her feet again, Rachel has leapt out of the bed and hastily pulls on a pair of shorts and a tank top and runs out of the room before Quinn can catch her. She hears her bedroom door open and close again and she knows that Quinn isn't far behind. She takes the stairs two at a time and just manages to slip out of Quinn's reach by sliding across the floor into the kitchen-

Where Dad and Daddy are sitting at the kitchen table.

Quinn tumbles in after her, still hot on her trail, but skids to a stop when she notices the two men sitting silent and shocked before them.

Daddy breaks the silence first. "Rachel, we didn't know you had company."

"I—I thought you would be at the farmer's market," she stutters.

"We were, but we came back early." Dad looks her up and down without meeting her eyes, and then back to his paper. She looks at herself and notices then that her shirt is backwards, and her shorts are inside out.

Quinn is virtually silent. The playful morning is forgotten instantly as the awkward situation unfolds . How long have they been here? What did they hear? Had she really moaned as loudly as she remembers? She thinks she can feel the same questions furrowing Quinn's brows. Rachel has known her long enough now to know that she's dying to run.

"Are you going to introduce your guest, Rachel?" Daddy asks gently. She nods.

"Dads, this is Quinn. Quinn, these are my dads. So now that we've all met, we're going to go now and I'm going to take Quinn home."

"Nonsense," Daddy says. "We were just about to make lunch. We have enough for everyone I'm sure. You two should stay."

"Oh Daddy, I don't think Quinn wants to have lunch with us, I'm sure she just wants to go home."

"Why don't we let Quinn speak for herself." Daddy looks pointedly at Quinn, who wilts under his gaze. The silence is heavy and the expectations are high.

"Okay," Quinn agrees. "I guess I can stay."

* * *

><p>"So Quinn, Rachel didn't tell us you'd be staying over. I thought she was at Kurt's house with Mercedes last night." Daddy bites into a piece of toast and Rachel takes her cup in her hand and drains it to stall for time.<p>

Rachel puts down her orange juice. "Quinn was there, too."

"I didn't think you two really ran in the same circle outside of the glee club," Hiram says.

"Well, Quinn…she's dating Finn…so she was over there last night too and we all were hit with inspiration for a number at the same time so we were all rehearsing together. But then Quinn needed extra help with the choreography so I thought I'd bring her over here to practice in the studio downstairs."

Quinn steps on her foot, a clear rebuttal of the claim that Rachel is the superior dancer.

"I'm surprised that the captain of the Cheerios needed extra help with choreography," Leroy muses. Rachel takes a large bite of her tofu scramble and considers a reply as she chews.

"Well, it was more a matter of keeping the steps in order and singing at the same time."

They don't believe her. It's painfully obvious. Her fingers find Quinn's under the table and they squeeze hard, clinging to each other as they face the inquisition. Rachel's been helping me with my breath control so I can sing and dance at the same time without my voice shaking."

The lie flows easily and confidently from her lips. Rachel is surprised, but she remembers who is sitting next to her. This is the girl who convinced her virgin boyfriend that he had impregnated her. Lying isn't a foreign concept to her. The thought doesn't provide the comfort Rachel thought it would and she sets her eyes on her plate.

"So what song is it?"

Rachel snaps to attention. "Which song?"

"The song you all were working on last night. Is it a number for Nationals? You all must be working hard to get ready for that."

"Oh, right. Yes. It's for Nationals. We're just playing around with a few ideas and Mercedes mentioned the Eurythmics and we thought Quinn would sound great on lead for Sweet Dreams so we just wanted to try out some arrangements and see where it went."

It isn't _really_ a lie. They had been talking about the idea a few days ago. It hadn't actually manifested into anything usable, but she felt better telling her dads something that had at least a little truth at the center.

"Do you like performing with the glee club, Quinn? How does it compare to cheering?"

"I'm not on the Cheerios anymore, Mr. Berry," Quinn replies simply. "I had to make a choice between what I loved and what I thought I needed to be happy and I couldn't have chosen more wisely. Besides, Coach Sylvester's thirty hour weekend practices were starting to really impact my grades and I need a 4.0 if I want to stay at the head of my class and get into an Ivy."

Rachel can see the shock on his face and she couldn't be prouder of Quinn's response.

"I had no idea you were such an academic," Daddy answers.

Quinn shrugs. "I've always loved to read. Learning comes naturally to me."

"Where are you applying next year?" Dad asks. Suddenly he's interested and Rachel feels uncomfortable. She and Quinn haven't had this conversation yet, and while it's no secret that Rachel is headed to New York, there's a small, secret part of her that hopes Quinn will come along.

"Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Columbia, NYU, Oberlin, Northwestern, and Ohio State as a safety." She rattles off the list like she's been reciting it since she was a kid. "My mom wants me to go to Harvard so I can make connections at the Divinity school, but I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you want to study?" Rachel asks. This is eye opening, really. They haven't talked about things like this. She knows Quinn likes to read, but she doesn't know what Quinn wants to study or where she hopes to go or what she wants to do after she graduates. Everyone at McKinley knows about _her_ dreams and her prospects: graduation, New York, Broadway, stardom. But Quinn, with her reservation and boundaries, is still a mystery.

"Neuroscience," she says simply. "I want to be a doctor."

It's as if every time she sees Quinn she learns so much more and sees her in a completely different light. Doctor Fabray does have a ring to it.

Her dads make the obligatory reference to "Doctor Quinn: Medicine Woman," and Quinn laughs along gamely. Rachel starts to relax and only then does she realize how tightly she's been clenching her jaw.

Quinn excuses herself to use the bathroom, and the moment she is out of earshot, her fathers lean in.

"Why is Quinn Fabray here?" Hiram asks, his voice low.

"I already told you. We were rehearsing a number for glee and she needed more help so I brought her back here—"

"I'm not buying it, Rachel. There's no way you would allow someone else to sing lead at Nationals. Now I want to know the truth. Why is Quinn Fabray in our house? I've told you over and over that I don't want you spending time with her."

"Hiram, relax," Leroy soothes, always the peacekeeper.

"I don't trust her, Le. I've said it once and I'll say it again. I don't trust her and I can't imagine that she isn't going to make some sort of attempt to humiliate Rachel—"

"Dad, would you stop it?" She erupts. "I don't understand what the problem is. Why shouldn't she be here? She's a friend of mine and I don't understand why you both feel that you have the right to determine whom I consider worthwhile!"

"Rachel, lower your voice. This is unacceptable."

"Is it that you think I'm not good enough for Quinn Fabray? That I'm still the awkward, self obsessed little girl who sat alone in her room praying for the day someone would notice her? Why is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, Quinn likes _me_? Why must there be an ulterior motive?"

Her face is hot and the words are spilling out, harsh and angry, as her voice climbs higher and higher.

"You will _not_ speak to us like this, Rachel. What has gotten into you?" Dad's voice is clipped and unsympathetic. She had expected an apology, but it's clear now that she won't be getting one. "Maybe this is how Quinn talks to _her_ parents, but you will not disrespect your father and me like this. I absolutely will not stand for it. It's clear already that Quinn is a bad influence. You've been sneaky and withdrawn and secretive for weeks now. I don't want you spending any more time with her. Is that clear?"

"No!" Rachel exclaims. "I'm nearly eighteen years old! You don't get to decide things like this for me anymore! I get to decide who my friends are—not you! The bottom line is that I know Quinn better than you do, either of you, and I trust her. Why isn't that good enough for you?"

"Because we've seen what she's done to you, Rachel. You're our daughter and we don't want you to get hurt."

"Well, thanks for your _concern_ for my _well-being_, but I've got this under control and it has nothing to do with either of you."

"I've had _enough_, Rachel. This ends now. Do whatever you want, but remember who washed out the Slushie stains out of all of your clothes, and who worked the gum out of your hair, and who spent hours on the phone with endless teachers, coaches, and principals every time Quinn found a new way to make you miserable."

"This is different, Dad. You don't understand!"

She feels terribly juvenile and incredibly embarrassed, but both of those feelings are less intense than the anger and frustration blinding her vision. She storms out of the kitchen and finds a shell-shocked Quinn standing in the hallway.

"We're leaving," Rachel announces before leading the way to the car.

* * *

><p>When Rachel returns twenty minutes later after one of the most awkward car rides she can imagine, her dads are sitting stonily in the living room. There's no way to sneak up the stairs unseen and quietly seethe in her room if they're on the sofa, and they know it.<p>

"Rachel, we need to talk," Daddy says. He says it nicely, but it's not a request.

"Okay," she surrenders. She remembers her outburst vividly and shame burns through her. She's never argued with her dads on a scale like this before and she's absolutely humiliate. She shuffles into the room and curls up in her favorite chair, hugging her knees to her chest.

"We want to know what's going on. You've been out of sorts for weeks and it seems like Quinn is at the crux of this. What is happening between you two?" Daddy's using his therapist voice and Rachel hates feeling like one of his patients.

"Nothing. We're just spending more time together. We're a good match vocally."

"Is she bullying you, Rachel? Is she forcing you into this or something? You've just been so on edge lately," Dad notes. The anger has faded from his voice and his eyes are softer. The concern on his face brings a lump to her throat and she swallows back the tightness.

"No," she says. "It's nothing like that. I told you, we're just spending more time together. We're putting the past behind us and trying to grow up."

"We don't want you to get hurt, Rachel. You're so special. You don't need her approval or attention to validate yourself. I know how you throw yourself into everything you do, but after everything over the years, is it worth it?

Daddy looks at his clasped hands in his lap while Dad puts forth his evidence and says nothing.

"It's just that we've seen you try so hard for so long, Bug. Ever since you were in dance class together you've wanted so badly to strike up a friendship. We watched you rush to her side during her pregnancy and you've always been quick to defend her. We're just worried about you trying so hard for someone who has given you nothing in return for all of your efforts."

It _hurts. _And it hurts because it's _true. _

Daddy finally looks up.

"Rachel, are you in love with Quinn Fabray?" He asks quietly.

That's all it takes for the dam to break. She presses her head to her knees and weeps. Long, ragged, keening cries that shake her body and ring in her ears. Her dads are at her side and she feels their hands on her back.

"Oh Rachel…" Dad sighs. "Oh, my Rachel."

"Sweetheart, it's all right. It's okay."

She cries until her throat is raw and her eyes burn. Her dads just rub her back and hold her tight. When her cries die down Daddy heads to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. She sips slowly and feels herself start to calm down.

"Can we talk about this, Rach?" Dad asks gently. She nods and wipes her nose with the edge of her sleeve.

"I think I'm gay," she whispers hoarsely. Dad takes a long, shuddering breath and Daddy takes one of his hands.

"Okay."

They sit in uncomfortable silence until Daddy asks, "Are you two…dating?"

She's not sure how to answer. Technically, no, but in practice, sort of. She just nods. She expects Dad to say something about the irony of such conservative Christian parents having a gay daughter, but he doesn't. He just looks at her sadly, like he can feel her pain and is wearing it on his face.

"But what about Finn and Puck and Jesse and all of that?" Rachel can only shrug.

"I think," she starts, "that I only wanted to be with Finn because I was so jealous that he was with Quinn. If I couldn't be with her, I didn't want anyone else to be with her either." Daddy nods as if that makes perfect sense, even though the logic is completely invalid.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry." Dad puts his face in his hands and Rachel watches his shoulders shake. "I'm so sorry I've made this so difficult for you and I'm so sorry you didn't feel like you could tell us how you felt."

She joins her dads on the couch and they snuggle close together, all three of them crying amid questions and answers.

"Above all, Rachel, we love and support you. We just want you to be happy and safe. We will try to put the past behind us, but we will always look out for you."

She hugs them, amazed by how much lighter she feels after finally telling _someone _ about these feelings. After the topic is completely exhausted, Rachel heads to her room to relax and her dads read the paper together.

* * *

><p>The first thing she does is pick up her phone and send a text to Quinn.<p>

_What a crazy morning. I came out to my dads and told them about you and us. Things are much better here now._

She smiles, feeling like she can finally breath for the first time in weeks.

It takes a few minutes before her phone buzzes with a response. She flips it open and opens Quinn's message.

_You did WHAT? I can't believe this, Rachel. What were you thinking?_

In an instant her stomach is leaden and her head starts to spin when she gets another message.

_How dare you out me like that? What if they say something to my mom? This is exactly why we're keeping this a secret. Are you insane?_

Rachel furiously types a reply. _Don't you understand, Quinn? Now we have somewhere we don't have to hide; we're safe here._

She hopes this might calm Quinn down and put things into perspective, but her phone buzzes angrily right away. Not a good sign.

_I can't talk to you right now. Especially about this._

Rachel lies back on her bed and cries tears she didn't know she had left. The last twenty four hours have been such an emotional roller coaster. It's all coming together in a confusing blur. She does what she can to close her eyes and shut out the world, if only for a little while, and put the pieces into focus.

* * *

><p>[AN] Thanks, as always, for your patience. I'm currently in Jerusalem on a summer program so my internet connection has been spotty at best. I'm considering changing the title of this story from In My Secret Life to Words are Just Words Anyway. What do you all think?

As always, my favorite phrase is "I like this." (though I will also accept 'I hated this and here's why') :)


	13. Chapter 13

A knock on the door wakes her, and she can't control the lurch of her chest. It's Quinn. She knows it.

"Rach? Can I come in?"

"Sure, Dad," she answers, hoping he can't sense her disappointment. The door opens and Rachel can hear his footsteps across the carpet nearing her bed without turning over. The mattress shifts under his weight as he sits at the edge of the bed and she relaxes involuntarily under the weight of his heavy hand as he rests it on her back.

Hiram clears his throat. "I was just wondering if you wanted to talk more about this morning, or anything else?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I'm okay."

"I know I'm not the emotional guy. I'm not the best at talking about feelings. I'm not the most helpful when it comes to, I don't know, affairs of the heart? Your Daddy is much better at things like that. I just...I'm here to apologize, Rachel, for whatever it is that I've done that made you think that you couldn't talk to me about what's going on."

"It's okay, Dad." Rachel pulls herself up and brings her legs to her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs.

Dad sighs and brushes back a strand of Rachel's hair. "But it's not, Bug. It's not okay. You're going through something very big and very scary and you didn't feel like you could come to your parents for help. Maybe that's just a part of what it means to be seventeen, but I can't help but feel that it means that I've...that I've failed you somehow."

Rachel feels a lump rise in her own throat when Dad's voice catches.

"I just wanted to make it very clear that I'm here for you, no matter what. Regardless of what's going on or who you're seeing or what you're feeling, I'm always here." He lays his hand over one of hers and meets her gaze. "You are extremely special, Rachel. You are an incredibly kind, beautiful, talented, and caring young woman. I just don't want to ever see anyone take advantage of you. I don't want to watch you let your heart be broken by someone who doesn't appreciate all that you are."

"That's just it!" She interrupts. "This is why I couldn't say anything to you about any of this. You assume my decisions and choices are wrong and that she doesn't really care about me...that I'm going to get hurt."

"Rachel, I'm your dad," he says gently. "I already know you're hurting."

She opens her mouth to reply, but there's nothing to say. He's not wrong.

"What can I do to support you?" He asks. The offer catches her off-guard.

"Just...give Quinn a chance. Please. I think you'll see a different side of her. She's not like her parents and she's not who she was all those years ago. She's really grown and I just need you to trust me."

Dad gives Rachel a small smile. "Okay," he nods. He presses his lips together as if to hold back his concerns.

"So, is there anything else you want to tell me about what's going on with you two? Aside from what you told us this afternoon...and what we heard this morning?"

Rachel's cheeks are on fire and she swats Dad away, choking on her humiliation. Dad laughs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He holds his hands up in fake surrender. "Maybe that's _too much _support."

"Anyway," Rachel trills, eager to change the subject, "I guess it might be nice to talk about all of this, as long as you promise not to just tell me how terrible Quinn is."

Dad nods, "I promise."

And she tells him everything, well, almost. She doesn't tell him about the party, or Seven Minutes in Heaven, or being drunk, but she tells him everything else. About Quinn and how she and Finn are still dating, about their agreement, about being the 'other woman' and about how it seems like the only thing getting in the way of her own happiness is Quinn's image. How she thinks, _knows_, that they would be happy if Quinn just stopped caring about what other people think.

Dad hugs her close. "I think you know it's not that easy."

"I know. I just wish she could understand that no matter what people think of her, I'll feel this way about her. Even if she had no one else left, she'd still have someone who loves her."

"For someone like Quinn Fabray who has already lost it all once before, that might not be enough for her. I think she's probably very, very afraid, Rach. She knows that whatever is going on inside of her right now could destroy the life she has already had to rebuild once before."

"But if it were the other way around, I would let my world fall apart to be with her."

He doesn't have to say it-just the look on his face shows Rachel that he thinks this is completely naive.

"I just keep thinking that maybe if she loved me like I love her, then she would risk it all to make this happen." She surprises herself when the words slip out of her mouth and hang in the silence.

"You know, Daddy has a lot of interesting theories about the psychological effects of situations like Quinn's and maybe you should ask him what he thinks. But I don't think you should read Quinn's lack of action as some sort of reflection of how she feels about you. I think it's much more complicated than that."

"So you think she likes me?" It feels silly to ask her dad something like that, but she needs to hear it from someone.

"I think, judging by the way she looked at you at the table this morning, and the fact that she's engaged in anything so risky with you, it's safe to say she cares for you a great deal, honey."

"She's upset that I came out to you guys," Rachel admits. "I told her that I told you about us and she's really upset. She won't talk to me."

Dad sighs, "it probably makes the whole thing very real for her, Rach. To have someone else know that she's has feelings for another woman and to have such a closely guarded secret revealed is probably very difficult for her."

"So should I have kept it a secret?"

"From your Daddy and me? Absolutely not. Just give her time and I think she'll come around."

He kisses her forehead and stands up. "I'm always here if you want to talk, honey, and I'll really work on trying to understand. Daddy and I just want to help you any way we can."

"I really appreciate it," she says.

"Daddy and I were thinking about ordering takeout tonight. How does that sound?"

She nods. "Sure, that sounds great."

"Do you want to come downstairs? I think Daddy's watching one of those VH1 countdown shows you like."

"I think I'll stay up here for a little while if that's okay."

Dad nods. "That's fine. I'll let you know when the food's here."

"Okay."

As Dad leaves the room, she realizes that for the first time in weeks, she feels like a little bit of weight has been truly lifted off of her shoulders. Even as she sits and waits for the other shoe to drop-for Quinn to call back and deny it all- she feels so much less alone knowing her dads are on her side.

Quinn doesn't call or text that night, and Rachel tries exceptionally hard not to care. It's not easy; every other thought is punctuated by something Quinn related. When she eventually meets her dads downstairs and settles between them for a Tivo'd episode of What Not to Wear, she can't help but notice that Stacy has an outfit ready for the fashion victim to try on that looks exactly like something Quinn would wear. Her thoughts jump from to the outfit on Quinn to the outfit _off _of Quinn and then all she can imagine is never seeing Quinn's body again. She takes a deep breath and Daddy grabs her hand and squeezes tightly.

"It'll all work out, Rach. Just give it time."

She turns her phone off and buries it in her sock drawer when she goes to bed. Then she won't know whether or not Quinn is continuing to ignore her. It seems like a decent plan until Rachel crawls into bed and discovers that not knowing if Quinn is trying to call is worse than knowing she isn't. She switches it back on and puts it on her nightstand.

What she wouldn't give to have a friend to talk this over with. She's dying to call Mercedes or Kurt to get their advice and to tell them what's been going on and why she's been acting so strangely. It's a lot of secret to keep.

* * *

><p>A buzzing from her nightstand wakes her. Her clock's red digits say that it's a quarter after three. She clumsily flips her phone open and holds it against her cheek.<p>

"Hello?" She says groggily.

"Rach?" Quinn's voice is raspy. She offers a quiet "hi."

"Hi. Are you okay?" She tries not to yawn directly into the receiver. She sits up and rests against the headboard.

"I'm fine." She sounds embarrassed. "How-how are you?"

"Struggling to keep my eyes open," she says, yawning again.

"I'm sorry I called so late."

"It's okay," Rachel assures. And it really is okay. 4 am, 5 am, whenever. She's always here. Waiting.

"I just couldn't explain earlier and. And I'm sorry...about the way I spoke to you earlier."

"Texted," Rachel corrects, not without an edge in her voice.

"Right. Texted. I'm sorry about the way I texted you earlier. You didn't deserve it."

"I was out of line when I told-"

"No, Rach, you weren't," Quinn sighs. "Don't blame yourself. You had every right to talk to your parents. That's your business. I don't have the right to tell you what you can and can't tell your family."

"I'm just sorry I outed you in the process."

Quinn's breath hitches on the other end.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just..._outed_. That word scares me."

"It's just a word," Rachel reassures. "It can't hurt you."

Quinn's end goes very quiet. "It's the worst thing that could happen to me," she whispers. Rachel listens as Quinn's breathing catches unevenly. Tears spring to her own eyes when Quinn sniffs back her sobs.

"Oh Quinn..."

"I'm so scared," whispers Quinn. "I'm just so scared."

"I know you are, Quinn. I know," she soothes.

"No you don't. You have no idea what this is like or how terrifying it is," Quinn says sadly, as if she pities Rachel's ignorance. "Your dads would never dream of throwing you out or cutting you off financially or disowning you for being gay. I've read so many stories about teens whose parents have done even worse when they found out their child was gay. You remember what my parents did to be when I got pregnant-imagine what they would do if they found out that I'm...that I'm gay."

Rachel feels tears roll down her own cheeks as Quinn's muffled wails fail to subside.

"Do you want me to come over?" She asks. "Or I could come get you and bring you to my house."

"No," Quinn says thickly. "I'm...I'm actually in your driveway."

"What?" Rachel climbs out of bed and stumbles to the window. She's not lying-her car is parked squarely in the Berry's driveway. "Hold on a second."

She belts her robe around her waist, pulls her hair back and shoves her feet into a pair of slippers before flying down the stairs and out the front door.

She taps her knuckles gently against the window and waits for Quinn to open the door. Instead she just lowers the window.

"Do you want to come in? Since you're already here and it's cold and dark outside, it's a little fruitless to refuse."

"Can we just...can we talk in here? I don't really want to have two awkward breakfast encounters with your dad in one weekend."

Rachel nods and crosses to the other side of the car and lets herself in. The car is warm, even with the engine turned off, and one of the mix cds she made is playing on the stereo. She smiles privately at the familiar tune and lyrics and takes Quinn's hand.

Quinn turns to face her, tears tracking down her blotchy cheeks. "I'm gay, Rachel."

There's no perfect response, so she just clenches Quinn's hand tighter. "I know it doesn't feel okay right now, but it really is okay."

"No it isn't," she sobs as she smacks the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "It's not supposed to be this way! I'm not supposed to be this way!"

"Quinn, I don't really know how this can come as such a surprise after what we've been doing for weeks."

"When you told me you came out to your dads and told them about us...I was so angry at you. I told myself I was going to break up with you and end this-that it wasn't worth the risk. And then when I picked up the phone to break up with you, I couldn't do it. You...you mean too much to me. I didn't expect that to happen. I've never had a hard time breaking up with a guy before, but ending things with you...just thinking about it stopped my heart, Rach. I've never felt that way about a boy."

"Oh," Rachel breathes.

"Rachel, I'm more in love with you than I've ever been with anyone. And that's what hit me. I'm in love with a girl. I want to take a girl to the prom. I want to kiss a girl until I only see stars. I want to tell you about my life and my past and my family. I...I want to follow you to New York and live in some crappy little apartment and listen to you warm up your voice in the shower while I make coffee in our rundown kitchen."

Rachel's cheeks burn and she tries to control the grin spreading across her face. Quinn is still sniffling back tears and it's clearly not the right moment to promise to try to make that future a reality.

"And wanting these things terrifies me. I never wanted to be this way. After I had the baby I promised that I wasn't going to rock the boat again. It's too hard to be so different, to be so alienated and alone. I never want to be in a situation like that again. But here I am, sitting in this car with you telling you that you've become the center of my world."

They sit in silence with their hands clenched together. Rachel's head is spinning and her heart is racing with the possibilities in front of her. Quinn's palm is sweating against hers and Rachel pretends not to notice.

"I just don't want to lose my mom again, Rachel. And if she finds out about any of this it will be so much worse than when Beth was born. At least then I was fulfilling my 'feminine obligation'-loving a boy, having a baby, becoming a mother. But being gay? She would never understand."

"Maybe she'll surprise you..."

Quinn shakes her head. "Even the people on that gay youth hotline told me it wasn't a good idea to come out to her right now."

"You called a hotline?" Rachel asks incredulously.

"After you texted me I was doing some reading online this weekend. Their website said to call if you were in crisis. It felt like a crisis at the time. Anyway, the woman on the phone said that until I'm more secure in my," she clears her throat, "gay identity, I shouldn't come out to her. That I should start by coming out to people who will be supportive."

"That makes sense," Rachel nods. "You could come out to me."

"What?" Quinn almost laughs. "But you already know."

"Yeah, but maybe it will make you feel better to tell someone. Especially someone who will support you."

"Okay..." Quinn looks at her quizzically but smiles. "I guess that could be helpful. Just for practice anyway."

"Okay," Rachel encourages. "Pretend that I don't know."

"Okay." Quinn steadies herself. "Rachel, I have something to tell you that you might find surprising. Maybe you should sit down."

They laugh together and Rachel pretends to sit down. "Okay," Rachel answers with mock uncertainty. "You can tell me anything."

Quinn opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rachel just waits patiently for the words to come.

"Rachel," she says hesitantly, "I'm gay."

Rachel's jaw drops and her eyes widen. "What? The former head cheerleader and glee club sensation Quinn Fabray is a lesbian? I will never believe it!"

"Oh hush," Quinn scolds as she pulls Rachel into a hug. She crushes Rachel against her chest, and Rachel's hip is pressed uncomfortably against the parking break but she doesn't care.

"Thank you," Quinn whispers.

"Always."

* * *

><p>[an] thanks for your patience! I've got a large chunk written so I'll be able to post once or twice a week for a while. :) as always, my favorite phrase is "I liked this." if you can say that honestly, I'd love to hear "I hate this because". ;)


	14. Chapter 14

They sit in Quinn's car with their fingers entwined until the CD loops from the last track back to the first and the windows are fogged from the heat of their breath against the cool of the glass. Rachel's fingers are cold, but she doesn't ask Quinn to turn the engine back on because she doesn't want Quinn to consider leaving. She worries that if the car is running, Quinn will follow suit and this new dawn will disappear with the sunrise.

"I'm still sorry I was so awful about you telling your dads about us," Quinn says, finally breaking the silence. "How was it?"

Rachel shrugs her shoulders. "They were more shocked than I thought they would be, considering who they are. There were a lot of tears."

Quinn's eyes soften and her grip on Rachel's hand tightens. "Why were they so upset?"

"I think they were more upset with themselves than anything else. They felt badly that I didn't feel like I could tell them earlier and that I felt like I needed to hide it."

"Why _did _you feel like you needed to hide that you're gay?"

Rachel stares out the window, carefully piecing together her reply. "I mean, just because my dads are gay doesn't mean that it's an easy thing to admit out loud, even to myself. I've grown up with gay influences all my life and I've watched their struggles and their pain. I've see the way people look at my dads when they hold hands or hug in public. I remember being so embarrassed during Parents' Night at school when everyone else had a mom and a dad, and everyone asked where my mom was, and how my dads had to explain every single time that they're _both _my dads." Her fingers fly to her cuticles and she starts picking at a hangnail. "And I wasn't sure, either. I mean, after Finn and Jesse and all of that, I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to call myself gay. I didn't know if I was bisexual or if I was just confused...I don't know."

"I know what you mean," Quinn says sympathetically, leaning her head back against the headrest. "I've had sex with a boy. I had a baby. I have a boyfriend. How can I be gay?"

"I don't know," Rachel replies. She really doesn't. "All I know is that I realized I was gay when I realized that I liked you more than I ever liked Jesse or Finn or any other guy."

She thinks she sees a satisfied smile cross Quinn's face.

"I guess...I guess I didn't tell my dads because I didn't _want _to be gay. I'm already unpopular and socially awkward and generally mocked and disliked. I don't really need anything else to set me apart. I'm at the bottom of the social ladder already."

"Have I ever apologized for the part I played in that?" Quinn interrupts. Now she's the one staring at her hands and avoiding eye contact.

"Not really," Rachel answers honestly. "You don't have to. I get it."

"No, I do," Quinn asserts. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. Look, I know that doesn't make up for any of it, and I still don't really understand why I'm like this, but I'm sorry for every time I've hurt you and embarrassed you and made you feel worthless. You're not."

She doesn't know how to respond, so for what could quite possibly be the first time ever, Rachel Berry remains silent.

"I'm trying to be more open and honest, especially with you. I guess that's why I drove over here in the first place. I guess once I realized how I really feel, I felt like you should know right away."

It's all very touching, but Rachel can't shut off the nagging in the back of her head that takes that one word, _honest_, and stretches out all of its letters looking to make sense of it. In the last month Rachel has never felt less honest and she can't imagine how honesty could possibly into Quinn's relationship with Finn, but she's smart enough not to ask.

The sun starts its slow ascent and the soft morning light starts to filter through the windows. Rachel sees just how red and swollen Quinn's eyes are, and notices that her own finger has been bleeding where she's since torn away her cuticle. This night hit them harder than she had thought.

"Do you want to come inside?" Rachel asks. Her eyelids are heavy and the thought of slipping between the sheets in her warm bed grows more and more tempting as she notices just how cold the car is.

Quinn shakes her head. "I mean, I do, but it's Sunday. I have to go to church with my mom and if I'm not home soon, she'll know I was out. I should probably go."

"Oh, okay." Rachel eases open the car door and Quinn's hand tightens around her wrist.

"I love you, Rachel," she says. It's not a hushed whisper, or a mumbled confession. Quinn announces it with something like confidence. Rachel can't control the grin that spreads across her face as she slides back into the car. She drapes her arms around Quinn's shoulders and steals a kiss. Quinn's lips seem to tighten before yielding and letting Rachel press just a little harder against them.

"I love you, too," Rachel says, with her lips still resting on Quinn's. She opens the car door and lets herself out and waves as Quinn slowly backs out of the driveway and disappears down the street.

Rachel trudges up the stairs with the feel of Quinn's lips and the warmth of her "_I love you_" inside her as she snuggles back under the covers.

* * *

><p>She sleeps until two on Sunday and has barely opened her eyes before remembering the mountain of homework neglected the day before. She stumbles out of bed and opens her laptop to finish a history paper, but takes a cursory glance at her email first. There's a message from Mr. Shue about a dance rehearsal tomorrow afternoon and how he wants them all to be prepared to "shake their booties at Booty Camp!". She smiles at his well-intentioned joke and makes a mental note to remind him that if he doesn't want to get fired, he probably shouldn't call it "Booty Camp". She has a couple of comment replies from Broadway World forums and a slew of sales flyers, but in the middle of it all is an email from Quinn.<p>

_Hi Rachel,_

_Thanks for everything last night. I just wanted to let you know that I meant everything I said._

_Love,_

_Quinn._

She leaves the message open and peeks at it while she writes her paper, mentally tracing the words _Love, Quinn_ over and over.

It's another late night. After all of her homework is finally finished she lays in bed unable to sleep. Her hands close around her phone and she squints against its bright screen as she flips it open.

_Can't sleep_, she texts. _I blame you._

Her phone buzzes in her hand a minute later. _Why is it my fault? (ps: I'm glad you texted. I can't sleep either)._

_Because you interrupted my carefully planned sleep schedule last night. My body functions the way that it does thanks to a strict diet and exercise routine along with well-regulated circadian rhythms. (ps: I'm sorry you can't sleep. And thanks for your email)._

_Sorry, Your Majesty. (ps: it's okay. I'm doing homework, so at least I'm being productive.)_

Rachel rolls her eyes. _The royal court will consider your apology. (ps: do we have to keep talking in parenthesis?)_

_Not if Her Royal Highness finds it tedious. ;)_

Maybe it's the joke or maybe it's the emoticon but Rachel longs to hold Quinn in her arms and kiss her because this whole conversation is so cute and this playful Quinn is one she feels privileged to know.

_I love you, Quinn._

She swears that her heart beats in triple time until her phone buzzes again.

_I love you, too, Rachel._

She buries her face in her pillow with the overwhelming loveliness of it all and tries to remember another time she was this happy.

_What are you working on? _She eventually replies.

_AP Chemistry lab report. It's horrible, but I'm almost done._

Sometimes she forgets that Quinn is brilliant and that she takes all advanced placement classes. Rachel knows that she herself is smart, but Quinn is in the top ten percent of their class.

_Maybe you should read it to me. I'm sure I'd go right to sleep, _she teases.

_If I were there, I'm sure I could help you find other ways of tiring you out._

Rachel audibly gasps. _Quinn Fabray, that was dirty!_

_What can I say? My fatigue has lowered my inhibitions._

Rachel sends her a smiley face and thinks about Quinn's hypothetical "offer". Just the thought of Quinn's hands on her body sends a shiver of excitement down her spine.

_What would you do if you were here?_ She types one-handed. The other hand is drifting down her chest and stroking her own ribcage.

It's a few minutes before she gets a reply. _I would kiss you, first on your lips, then on your neck, then right against your collarbone because every time I kiss you there, you sigh and it's extremely hot._

She inhales sharply and lets one hand cup her own breast as she types, _Ohhh._

Quinn doesn't reply right away, but Rachel rereads her text over and over as her hands scale the length of her body while she waits.

_Can I call you?_

Rachel immediately punches out her reply. _YES!_

"I've never done anything like this before," Quinn says in a whisper.

"Me either," Rachel admits, "but I really want to try if you're okay with it."

"Okay." Quinn sounds skeptical, but Rachel reminds herself that this was Quinn's idea.

"So...how do we start?"

"Um...I could ask what you're wearing?"

Rachel looks down. "Black pajama shorts with little gold stars. And that's it." She hears Quinn's breath catch on the other side of the phone.

"No top?" She asks.

"No top," Rachel replies coyly.

"Oh," Quinn sighs.

"What are _you_ wearing?"

"Nothing exciting. Cheerios sweatpants, a tee shirt from a church retreat, socks, and my glasses."

"You wear glasses?"

Quinn fumbles for a moment. "Yes, well, no because I usually wear contacts but today I was tired and I had a lot of work to do, so, yes. But don't tell anyone."

"I won't," Rachel promises. "Besides, I think it's sexy."

Quinn laughs nervously and Rachel sighs.

"What?" Quinn asks.

"Nothing. I just like you so much." She imagines Quinn with her hair in a messy bun, thick rimmed glasses sitting slightly askew on her face, and faded sweatpants and thinks that no one could be more beautiful.

"I like you so much, too," Quinn murmurs back. "Especially in what you're wearing."

"I think you mean, what I'm _not _wearing," Rachel teases.

"Actually, that's exactly what I mean," she purrs. Rachel feels a deep, insistent throbbing between her legs.

"God, Quinn. Your voice."

"I wish I could see you all spread out on your bed without your shirt on. I would just kiss every inch of skin I saw."

This is all so new. They've come so far. She can't quite wrap her mind around the fact that Quinn is sitting with her phone in her hand telling her that she wants to see her naked. She decides to merely accept the implausibility of it all and take it as truth.

"Take off your shirt," Rachel commands gently.

"Oh, okay. Hold on." Rachel hears rustling and then Quinn is back on the line, presumably without her shirt. "Okay. There we go."

"So I can just say whatever I want?" Rachel confirms. "Even if it's dirty? You're okay with that?"

"Mm-hm," Quinn hums.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. I'm imagining you on your bed and I'm next to you and I take your breasts in my hands and roll your nipple between my fingers until it gets hard. Then when it does, I draw it into my mouth and touch the other one while I suck on the first."

She has her own nipple between her fingers and imagines it's Quinn's.

"Mmmm, that would be amazing," Quinn sighs. "I really like when we're, you know, together, and mine rub against yours..." she trails off.

The thought of her nipples against Quinn's makes her instantly aware of the growing wetness between her legs. She looks at the carpet, remembering the first time she held Quinn's perfect breasts in her hands and breathes a soft _ohhh_ as her hands find her inner thigh.

Quinn releases a quiet, strangled groan, "Oh Rach...I just...I just want to listen to the noises you make. It's-" her breath hitches "it's so sexy."

"Are you touching yourself already?" Rachel asks.

"Maybe." From the way the word catches in her throat, it's clear enough.

"Tell me where your hands are," Rachel asks. She unties her drawstring and shrugs her shorts down.

"I have my phone between my ear and my shoulder. I have one hand on my...my chest, and the other hand is...it's between my legs."

Rachel could swear she can hear Quinn blushing. Maybe she can make her blush just a little bit harder.

"I wish that was my hand, Quinn. I love the feeling of your smooth lips, and the wetness against my fingers when I run my fingers between them."

"God, Rach..." she moans. "I want you to touch yourself, too. I want to imagine you with your hand between your legs, rubbing yourself in circles."

Now Rachel's the one flushing, but she follows Quinn's orders and parts herself and settles her finger against her clit. Slowly she traces even circles as she resists the urge to furiously grind against her hand. She moans, maybe a little too loudly, and tucks her phone against her shoulder.

"I'm making the circles you asked me to, but I'm using my other hand now, too. I'm going to use it inside."

"Yes, Rachel," Quinn hisses. "I wish I could see you with your fingers buried inside yourself."

"Maybe I'll show you sometime," she teases. She eases two fingers inside and draws them back out, creating a steady, but insistent rhythm. She gasps, and she hears Quinn groan as a result.

"Tell me what you're doing," Rachel begs breathlessly. "I want to know exactly what you're doing." Her hips rise off the bed and she can feel herself tightening. She knows she's close.

"I have my pants around my ankles," Quinn gasps, "and my whole hand rubbing against my, well, you know-"

"Say it, Quinn," she begs. "I want to hear you say it."

"Against my clit," she whispers. "I've never said that out loud. God, Rachel, I'm so wet."

"I know," she groans. "So am I. Are you close?"

"Yes." Quinn's breath is coming in ragged bursts. "Oh fuck," she growls. "Oh fuck." It's a sure sign she's right on the edge and Rachel is right there. She can feel herself spiraling inward, clenching and releasing, as her moans get higher and higher until they're just staccato eighth notes in G.

"Now, Quinn! Now!" She commands as her own orgasm overwhelms her. One hand flies from its position between her legs to her mouth and she bites down hard to keep herself from waking her fathers. Quinn comes with a long, low, groan that becomes a soft sigh and the sound of it makes Rachel want to do it all again.

"Wow," she breathes.

"Yeah," Quinn says, laughing nervously. "How was that? Do you think you can fall asleep now?"

Rachel yawns, wanting more than anything to curl up in Quinn's arms and drift off to sleep in her embrace. "I think so. That was incredible."

"I'm glad. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she sighs contentedly. "Get some sleep."

"I will. Goodnight, Rachel."

"Goodnight, my love."

* * *

><p>No song is upbeat enough three hours later when Rachel's alarm goes off to force her onto the elliptical. She snoozes her way through her work out and her morning sun salutation in favor of one extra hour, but even then she's barely alive.<p>

School is a blur. Somehow she gets from class to class and turns in all of her assignments and even manages to participate in a dialogue in French class, but she only barely remembers. The only thing that really sticks out is that Quinn smiles at her in the hallway between classes instead of ignoring her like she usual does. She slips a small note in Quinn's locker after lunch.

_Q,_

_Still exhausted. You tired me out __too__ much, but it was definitely worth it._

_Yours,_

_R_

_PS: I still want to see those glasses._

The first Booty Camp rehearsal is scheduled for that afternoon and she has no idea how she's going to make it through almost three straight hours of choreography. Shue lines them up in the order he wants them for Nationals and she's squarely between Santana and Brittany. She's in a window between Finn and Quinn. Right before the music starts, Finn touches Quinn's shoulder and kisses her cheek. Then the piano starts and Rachel is swinging her body in time to the music while trying to remind herself that_ she _was the one having phone sex with Quinn last night, not Finn, and that Quinn loves her and-

She hears the sickening crack before she falls to the floor and her head explodes with a searing pain. Her eyes instantly fill with tears and her hands fly to her nose.

"I'm bleeding," she says shakily, not sure she can get up on her own.

"Oh my god, Rach, I'm so sorry," Finn says, crouching down with Mr, Shuester to help her onto her feet.

"Let's get you to a doctor," says Shue, and just like that they're helping her down the hallway and Finn is carrying her purse as Mr. Shuester helps settle her in Finn's truck.

She sits with her head bent forward and an endless supply of tissues pressed against her nostrils as Finn grovels for forgiveness with a stream of apologies and promises.

"It's okay, Finn," she assures thickly. "It was an accident."

"I just feel so bad!" He says. "How could I be so damn...I dunno, bad at dancing that I actually hurt someone?"

"You didn't do it on purpose. These things happen. I'm right at swinging hand height, and to tell you the truth, I wasn't really paying attention. I should have moved out of the way quicker."

"Are you sure you're not mad?"

"Of course I'm not mad," she says gently. "You didn't hurt me on purpose."

Maybe this is karma, she thinks to herself. Maybe this is what she gets.

Finn leads her into the ER like she's on the verge of shattering into a thousand pieces.

"We're pretty sure her nose is broken," Finn tells the triage nurse, who looks him up and down disapprovingly.

"Honey, do you need me to call the police?" She asks Rachel pointedly.

Finn finally catches on. "Oh! I didn't do this to her. Well, I mean, I kind of did because we were at dance practice and I'm a really bad dancer and-"

Rachel cuts him off, "I'm fine. It was an accident."

The receptionist takes one look at her and her bloody hands and hands the clipboard of forms to Finn.

"Let your boyfriend fill these out for you," she says. "It'll be about an hour until we can see you."

"He's not my-" she starts to correct, but the nurse is already on the phone with someone else. She sighs and heads to the waiting area with Finn.

"Okay, this shouldn't be hard to fill out. Name, address, phone number. got it."

"My dads will fill most of this out when they get here, Finn. It's all right. You can go back to practice."

"No way! I did this. I'm staying here with you."

"Okay," she sighs. Her phone buzzes in her pocket.

_Oh my god, Rachel, are you okay? Do you want me to come over there?_

Rachel texts back slowly, trying not to get any blood on the keys. _That's okay. Your boyfriend is taking really great care of me. Stay and learn the choreo so you can teach it to us later._

She half wishes that Quinn would have been the one to rush to her aid, but she understands why that would have been impossible. It would have looked bizarre to the rest of the club if Quinn had suddenly taken an interest in Rachel's well being. She sighs again, closes her eyes, and tries to focus on something that isn't the throbbing pain between her eyes.

* * *

><p>I know I promised you guys a bunch of consecutive updates last time and I'm sorry I didn't follow through. My computer ate the document and I was so frustrated that I just had to back away from it for a while. I hope this update was worth the wait (and the following update is ready to go and saved in multiple places).<p>

As always, my three favorite words are "I liked this" (but my favorite sentence is "we'd like to award you a generous scholarship", but that's neither here nor there). Thank you!


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